Eighteen Minutes
by Lesera128
Summary: A tragic accident that Booth witnessed left Brennan clinically brain dead for 18 minutes before resuscitation pulled her back to this life. Overwhelming losses & an ensuing crisis of faith confront the pair. Set at the end of season 4. AU. Complete.
1. Pro:It Started with a Fall

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer:::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back to this life only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Author's Note: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. Just so that readers aren't confused - this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan _was_ inseminated as planned.

A note to first-time readers - welcome. In case you don't know, my writing starts slow, but it always finishes hard and fast. It's highly probable that readers will have many questions as the story progresses, but I promise, before everything is said and done, answers will always be provided. Promise. Also, despite how this prologue may make it seem, this is not in any way, shape, or form a story that contains supernatural, fantasy, or science fiction elements. You'll see what I mean shortly, so bear with me and keep that in mind as we go along. And, yes, for those still wondering I still have yet to write a story where Brennan and Booth have never ended up together eventually, somehow and in someway. Now, if you're still with me, it's time to get rolling...~

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><p><span>Prologue: It Started With a Fall<span>

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><p>As he walked towards where he'd left his car, Special Agent Seeley Booth shook his head in vehement response to his partner's last statement. "No way, Bones, not gonna happen," Booth said as he went to the driver's side his black, standard government-issue Toyota Sequoia SUV. "This isn't a good idea. and therefore it's not happening."<p>

"But, why not?" Dr. Temperance Brennan insisted, following him to the driver's side of the car, as she continued to press her advantage and try to sway him in favor of her point. "You said it yourself. Grant's just a carpenter. And, he's work for a church, Booth."

"That happens to be an active construction site," Booth countered with a shake of his head. "So, like I said—no way, Bones. It's just too dangerous."

"Aren't you always the one who's telling me that nothing bad can happen at church?" Brennan said as she arched an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you the one who's always said that the House of God is a place of peace?"

"No," Booth corrected her with a firm shake of his head. "I'm the one who keeps telling you that it's a good thing to go to church because bad things do happen… everywhere, Bones. Bad things happen all the time, everywhere, and sometimes they happen to good people, and going to church helps makes sense of senselessness."

Brennan considered making one of her standard cracks about the illogical claims of such acts stemming from a single omnipotent, omniscient deity. However, she also knew that making such statements tended to inflame Booth's ire, and that was the last thing that she wanted. _So, keep your mouth shut for a minute, Brennan_, she counseled herself. _If you want him to take you with him, it's probably not a good idea to make __snide comments on his belief system that'll just piss him off even more. But, maybe there's another tack I can take... _Sticking her lip out just a bit, Brennan began to pout. "But, Booth—"

Sighing, Booth shook his head as he instantly realized what she was doing. "Oh, come on, Bones." He shot her a look that seemed to say 'are you kidding me?' Shaking his head, he said, "Really? You're going to fall back on the good ole standby of giving me the trembling lip that doesn't even work when Parker does it?"

Unable to help herself, Brennan smiled as she raised her face to meet his gaze. "Perhaps this is something that Parker's done on occasion—"

"It's manipulation, Bones," Booth said as he wagged his finger at him. "Pure and simple."

"Well," Brennan said, "I wouldn't have to resort to such tactics if you'd just give in and agree to let me come with you."

"See, Bones, the thing is, it doesn't work when Parker does it, so why should it work when you do it?" Booth asked her as he arched an eyebrow to emphasize his point.

Again, Brennan smiled a bit, a shy but slightly evil smile as she said, "But, Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" he sighed in response.

"You're forgetting one crucial difference between Parker and I," she said.

"And, what's that?" he asked.

"You said I've got a cuter smile than Parker so I'm probably more skilled at affecting a response from you than Parker is, and—"

When Booth sighed again, Brennan knew that she almost had him. _I know that sigh. That sigh means he's close to giving in to either the logic of my argument or the persuasiveness of my physical cues...ha! _"Booth—" she again said.

"Come on, Bones," Booth said one last time, hoping that perhaps one last attempt at reasoning with the forensic anthropologist might be more fruitful than just trying to be more stubborn than she was. _Because, as stubborn as I am, I don't think that I can beat her on that one—__as much as I'd really like to be able to..._ "You know it's not a good idea."

"Why?" Brennan asked as she blinked at him several times in expectation of hearing his argument.

"You know very well why," Booth said. "You haven't been in the field in almost a month. Not since—"

"It's pure coincidence that a lull in our casework has coincided with the day I was inseminated, Booth," Brennan observed logically. She waved her hand dismissively as she said, "I haven't been trying to avoid fieldwork. This is the first time we've actually had a legitimate reason for me to accompany you somewhere—"

"But," Booth began to protest.

"No," Brennan interrupted him, a subtle change coming over her as she realized why he was being stubborn about allowing her to accompany him. "I refuse to allow you to begin to brow beat me into submission, exercising tedious, albeit understandable, alpha male tendencies just because you think I'm carrying your progeny, Booth." She stopped for a moment, frowned, and then shook her head. "Besides, we don't even know if the procedure took. We still have another week before my OB/GYN said it would be appropriate to take a pregnancy test—"

"Why bother?" Booth muttered more to himself than to Brennan. However, ever one with an acute sense of hearing, Brennan heard his snide comment...and the one that followed it. "You're certainly being hormonal enough for me to think it took—"

At his final comment, Brennan narrowed a particularly nasty look at Booth.

He stared at her for several seconds, immediately realizing that she'd not only heard his backhanded comment, but that she was pissed off about it. Knowing that there was only one thing that he could do to appease her at that point, he shook his head. "Okay!" Booth said suddenly. "Fine, Bones. You can come."

Instantly, like a gloomy cloud disappearing before a bright ray of sunshine, Brennan's look of displeasure disappeared, and she smiled a knowing smile at Booth. He sighed as she walked around to the front passenger's side and climbed into the SUV, grinning in triumph.

Shaking his head, Booth muttered to himself, "God, help me, because if you are pregnant, I'm never going to be able to survive this pregnancy. I'm telling ya, I'm going to be—"

"Booth! Come on! We're going to be late!" Brennan yelled from inside the SUV.

"—in so much trouble," Booth finished as he opened up the driver's side door and climbed in with another exaggerated sigh.

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><p>However, as was often the case, as soon as they arrived at the church, Booth knew he should've trusted his instincts. From the moment they pulled into the parking lot at the construction site that was the once and future location of St. Gerald Majella Roman Catholic Church, things went wrong. Booth hadn't even had the chance to pull out his badge, and identify himself as a federal agent in search of one James Grant, before a thin and wiry young man with shaggy light brown hair and watery blue eyes bolted from where he'd been helping to cut a piece of plywood at a circular saw. Booth immediately drew his firearm and took off in pursuit of Grant, stopping only long enough to bark two ferocious words at Brennan who had yet to fully exit the SUV. "Stay there!"<p>

For a couple of minutes, as Brennan watched Grant take refuge in the scaffolding of the building's incomplete skeleton, and watched Booth in hot pursuit of his suspect, she did as her partner had asked. However, watching Grant and Booth dodge in and out of her line of vision from where she stood on the ground next to the SUV, in compliance with Booth's command, Brennan felt a growing anxiety continue to increase. Several additional minutes passed as the FBI agent and the suspect went higher and higher into the scaffolding. At one point, Brennan saw a clear vision of Booth. He looked resentfully winded and viciously determined, but also frustratingly perplexed, as he seemed to have lost sight of Grant in he course of pursuit. However, from her vantage point, Brennan saw a flash of red that was the color of the t-shirt that Grant had been wearing.

Trying to get her partner's attention, Brennan gestured wildly with her arms. "Booth!" Brennan yelled. "He's there… just there. To your right. He's headed—"

And, that was when she saw it, and her face paled as her eyes widened in fear.

From where she stood on the ground, Brennan knew Booth couldn't hear her even if he had been looking at the ground to see the information she'd been trying to communicate to him. Biting her lip, her hands clasped defiantly on her hips, Brennan shook her head vehemently as she muttered, "I'm sorry, Booth. But, the potential of you getting yourself killed invalidates any promises for me to stay here where you think it's safe just because you think I'm hormonal."

Her decision made, Brennan rushed forward, leaving the safety of the SUV, and charged in the direction she knew Booth was headed because Grant had laid out a trap for him – perfectly.

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><p>Several minutes later, as Brennan had scaled the scaffolding with a type of dexterity that surprised both men, things went from bad to worse in Booth's mind's eye.<p>

"Stay right there!" Grant yelled at Booth in warning. He jerked Brennan in one direction, digging the fingers of his left hand into her arm. "Stop messing around," he growled at her.

Brennan, hazarding a quick glance to see if Booth's gun was still aimed at them both, felt a wave of lightheadedness crest over her as she tried to figure out a way to get free of Grant's grasp. As she moved, Grant's arms tightened around her again as his fingers clawed their way into her soft flesh, making her wince. Quickly, she tried to figure out how this had happened._ How had Grant even come to know I was there, let alone turned things around on me? Stupid, Brennan! This was just so stupid—and, more importantly, Booth's never going to let you live this one down, Brennan. Never. I mean, come on...you should've known better. Grant's may be just a kid, but he was smart enough to catch you in his hold, wasn't he? Now, stop wasting time and do what you always do best—think. Start thinking about a way to get out of this so that Booth doesn't try to keep you out of the field forever._

Brennan's thoughts were immediately interrupted as she heard the familiar growl of her partner.

"Let her go, Jamie!" Booth called. "Right now, you've only got a charge of resisting arrest added to that accusation of murdering your girlfriend."

"I didn't kill Clara! I loved her," Grant said, a bit of emotion cracking his voice.

"Fine, kid. Then, don't do anything stupid. Let the legal system do it's job. If you're innocent, the courts will prove it," Booth said.

"No way, man!" Grant retorted. "You've already decided I did it, and if I ever go to trial, there's no way in hell you'll ever let a jury find me innocent."

"I don't have that much control over things," Booth told Grant honestly, a bit of softness coming into his voice. However, he quickly narrowed his eyes again and the softness was immediately replaced with an edge as hard and cold as the touch of steel when Booth warned him, "But, if you don't let my partner go in about thirty seconds, we're going to have two really big problems. First, you're going to at _least_ have a second count of assaulting a federal law enforcement officer tagged onto your slew of other charges, along with anything else I can think of from false imprisonment to littering. But, even more important, you're going to have really, really pissed me off, and when I get angry, I can't guarantee that my finger might not slip and—"

"He's a trained sniper," Brennan quietly breathed so that only Grant could hear her. "If he takes a shot at you, he won't miss. You'll be dead."

"I'm not dying today," Grant said in a voice that was loud enough that Brennan wasn't sure if he'd said it so she would hear it, Booth, or both of them. "I didn't do it."

"Then, let me go, and we'll talk—" Brennan said, trying to maintain her calm and steady voice as then an idea suddenly came to her. _I just need a bit more time and a bit more room._ "I can help you if you just let me go. I promise I will."

"No, you won't," Grant snickered at her. "All women are liars and whores. Clara said she loved me, and she said she'd help me, too. But, she never did. All she did was leave me, get herself into trouble with that asshole she was fucking, and then left me to take the blame for his fuck up. Well, no more. I'm not doing it again. I'm not paying the freight for someone else's mistakes—"

"Come on, Jamie!" Booth bellowed again. "Clock's ticking here."

"Please let me go," Brennan said, quite calmly. She hoped the projected demeanor of submissiveness would be enough to distract Grant. _I just need an inch or two more, and I know I can get free myself._

"Let her go, Jamie!" Booth called. "If you don't want to believe her, than believe me. I'll help you if I can, but not if you do this. So, what's it gonna be because this is it. Last chance—"

"Will he do it?" Grant suddenly asked as he jerked Brennan towards him and his panicked blue eyes met hers. "Will he?"

"Booth's the most honorable man I know," Brennan said slowly. "He...if he said he'd help you, he will."

"Do you believe that?" Grant asked, some of his panicked bravado finally cracking. "Honestly and truly?"

"I'd trust Booth with my life," Brennan nodded. "I have faith in him...always."

"You're certain?" Grant pressed again. "Because...if you're wrong, then we're both dead."

"I'd stake my life on Booth any day," Brennan nodded. _And, I think I just did. Don't make me a liar, Booth. Please. _"I believe in him. And, if he gave you his word that he'll help you, he meant it."

Feeling Grant's fingers ease up as his grasp loosened when he nodded at her, Brennan didn't wait to waste the opportunity. Spinning away, Brennan struggled to get free. Quickly, she felt a moment of elation at her success when she no longer felt Grant's arms around her. However, the elation quickly turned to panic as she felt a hard shove respond to her movements, and very, very quickly, Brennan realized she had run out of room on the building's iron rafter. Her feet struggling for footing that just wasn't there to be found, the thought that she was actually falling didn't register in Brennan's conscious mind before she heard Booth scream her name and an explosion of searing whiteness overwhelmed her.

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><p>It was one of the worse things that Booth had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of terrible things in his life.<p>

The trite adage, was, in this case—true.

For a split second, as soon as he saw her begin to fall, time seemed to slow down to a simple crawl. Each and every single moment registered in Booth's mind. He saw Brennan spin away from Grant, he saw Grant lose his balance in surprise at her sudden movement, and stumble to remain upright. He watched as Grant knocked into Brennan, transferring some of his momentum to her, and he saw the surprised look on Brennan's face as she realized she had run out of room. Then, most sickening of all, he watched her fall off of the scaffolding, arms and legs flailing, her bright blue eyes widening in surprise and shock as she fell. And, then, because he couldn't help himself, Booth looked away as her body crashed into the ground below in a sickening thud of splintering wood and cracking bone.

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><p>Sometime later, Booth continued holding her hand as the ambulance jerked along its way, and the EMTs continued to work on Brennan.<p>

"Caucasian, female, 33, sustained severe trauma from a fall of approximately forty-five feet. She was pushed off a fourth story floor—"

"Pupils are dilated and respiration shallow. Heart rate is at 55 and falling—"

"Her BP is falling way too fast. It's down to 75 over 42—"

"Shit! She's going into VTAC… we're going to need the paddles—"

Booth felt his hand pushed away from Brennan's as he struggled to watch what was happening. With each charge of the panels, he felt a cry choke in his throat as he watched her body convulse and felt the terror quickly transition to paralyzing panic as she remained unresponsive before the whole cycle started all over again.

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><p>The ambulance pulled to a stop in front of the nearest hospital with a quick jerking motion that would have made him want to throw up if he wasn't already nauseous. Sitting there next to Brennan's stretcher, covered in her blood, Booth stared wide-eyed and slack jawed as the doors to the ambulance opened and another person entered the back of the vehicle.<p>

"So, do you want to call it?" an EMT asked the ER doc that had joined them as they continued to work on pushing oxygen into Brennan's lungs through a bag.

"Call what?" the doctor asked as he surveyed the familiar scene with a critical eye.

"Time of death," the second EMT tech said, a bit more softly as she looked at Booth with a sorrowful and apologetic nod at him. "She coded twice on the way here, and we managed to get a heartbeat, but this last time, well, we've kept working on her, but I just...I can't get a stable rhythm- so, should we call it?"

Glancing from one EMT to the other, the doctor then gazed at the heart monitor that continued to show no pulse, no sign of life, just the final and damning image of a flat line.

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><p><span>-TBC-<span>

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><p><span>Author's Note - continued -<span> So, there it is. I've been sitting on this piece for several months...not because I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it, but just because I wasn't sure when it was time to share. Now, I think it is...so I'd love to hear back from you all. And, to those who are wondering where in the hell my other story updates are...well, I promise—they're coming soon. I have about four chapters in four different stories in different stages of near completion. Now, I just need to buckle down and finish them. That should be happening in fairly short order. It'll be worth the wait, I promise. :)~


	2. Ch1:Angsty Prayers in the Chapel

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan _was_ inseminated as planned.

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><p><span>Chapter 1 – Angsty Prayers in the Hospital Chapel<span>

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><p>As he lingered in the doorway of her hospital room, Special Agent Seeley J. Booth never thought he'd see the day when he'd be transformed into a hesitant man. But, the sight of her bruised and bandaged body—laying pale and nearly lifeless in the huge hospital bed that almost swallowed her whole but for the endless tubes and wires that seemed to tether her to the machines like literal lifelines—well, it finally did him in. Dr. Temperance Brennan finally achieved what countless evil dictators, drug dealers, rapists, pedophiles, corrupt soldiers, and some of the most soulless dregs of society never had—she'd made him hesitate. And, in that second's hesitation, he hated himself for feeling so weak, so frail, and so feeble. He hated himself in that moment… which is probably why he finally allowed his self-hate and fear and guilt to do what he'd also promised would never happen.<p>

Standing in the doorway of her hospital room, Booth felt his heart catch in his throat as suddenly the image of her in the bed, head swathed in thick white cotton gauze bandages, intubated, and being kept alive by a respirator and countless other machines...well, it was just _too _much for him. In that moment, it all became too much for him to bear. And, so, he did what he'd always sworn he'd never do—he turned around, unable to help himself, as he walked as far away from her sickroom as his feet could carry him, and he finally left her.

Like he did on most days, Booth only got as far as the hospital's chapel.

The room was small and somewhat dark. Booth wondered if the lighting scheme had been purposely designed with the idea in mind that a dimmed room would be more soothing and conducive to contemplative rumination and individual prayer. Its walls were rather dreary, painted a neutral cream color that looked more dank and uninviting in the dim light then it probably actually was in reality. The nondescript grayish blue color of the carpeting was one that Booth had come to know very well as he stared down at it when he entered the chapel once more. Upon entering the small room, like he had on most days, Booth found it empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, he walked down the center aisle of the chapel, glancing at the nondescript pews that were upholstered in the same drab blue color as the room's well-swept carpet.

Trudging with a heavy heart and heavy step towards the front of the chapel, Booth finally stopped a couple of rows before the first pew, knelt in front of the nondescript cross that hung over a very plain altar, and bowed his head once before entering the row. Reaching into his pocket, Booth pulled out a well-worn pair of dark blue and pewter Rosary beads. He stared down at them for a minute, not really intending to pray the Rosary, but feeling better about having something to occupy his hands. He thumbed the smooth roundness of one of the blue beads as he silently began to murmur a random prayer so that he didn't feel _too _out of place in using the chapel as the impromptu refuge that it had become for him.

_Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary,_

Glancing down at the Rosary, for a split second, the brilliant blueness of the bead reminded Booth of several simultaneous images: the color of Brennan's eyes when she was awake and staring at him with a question or amusement or annoyance shining in her once bright eyes; the shirt she'd been wearing the day she fell…at least, before it was drenched in her own blood; and, most recently, the veins that still pulsed with her lifeblood against the paleness of her skin thanks to the myriad of machines to which she was connected.

_That never was it known that any one who fled to thy protection,_

Booth felt a pain in his heart as he tried to push the image of her pale and lifeless body out of his mind and failed miserably. Squeezing his eyes shut, Booth bit his lip so hard that he eventually felt the metallic tang of iron assault his taste buds as he swallowed once to try and clear the irksome taste away and again failed miserably at doing so.

_Implored thy help or sought thy intercession, was left unaided._

_What am I doing here? _he wondered for the thousandth time. _There's no point. It serves no purpose. I'm here when I should be there with her, and I know that, but I'm still here. After all that's happened—after all that's changed, I should know better. I __do__ know better, but I can't help it. I'm weak, and I'm a failure. This—all of this happened, all of it happened because of me. I know her, and I know the work we do. I should've know what was going to happen, and I should've done whatever I had to do to stop her. I should've done more to protect her, to keep this from happening, but I didn't. I didn't because I'm weak and an idiot and a failure...and this is all my fault. And, now—now I may never get the chance to make things right, especially since I'm falling apart and did the one thing I said that I swore I'd never do. I left her. God help me, I left her. __I__ left __her__._

_Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto thee,_

"Holy Mother," Booth murmured to himself in a quiet prayer. "I'm lost. I'm lost…so lost, and she's lost. And, we need help. I'm…I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what I can do to make this better. I feel like I'm drowning, and that I'm taking her with me because I wasn't strong enough or good enough to protect her, to keep her safe. Please—give the chance to make amends. Let me just…let me try to put things right. I know I can if I can just get the chance to fix things. God help us…please."

_O Virgin of virgins my Mother; to thee do I come,_

_Give me the strength_, he begged silently. _Give me the strength to stop running, to be strong, and to be there for her. Please give me the strength to do right by her. Please, oh Lord, please give me another chance. Let me right this wrong between us. Just give me a chance…just a single chance to put things right between us._

_Before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful;_

"Whatever the cost…whatever the price…for her, I'll pay it," Booth murmured in a voice that was whisper that fell softly from his lips. "Just please—don't let me lose her now. God, not now—"

_O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions,_

The image of running up to Brennan's crumpled body made him inhale sharply as he squeezed his eyes shut even further as he felt a sharp stab of pain at the memory as it assailed him. _God help me_, he breathed silently. _God help us_. _Please…don't let it be too late. Don't let it be too late for her, for us…you've already taken so much from her, from us, from me. Please…don't take her away too—not now. Not now, not when I've finally realized how much I love her_—

_But, in thy mercy, hear and answer me. Amen._

Sitting slumped as he was in the pew, his head propped up on an arm that rested on his thigh, Booth looked like the very picture of a defeated man as tears silently fell down his cheeks. He'd steeled himself not to cry again, but once again—despite his best efforts to the contrary, he'd failed. _It's because I'm not strong enough…that's why this happened. All of this—all of this happened because I'm weak. I'm weak…and I failed her, and if I can't even keep her safe, then maybe I don't even deserve her_, he continued to mentally berate himself, in a type of special torture that served no real purpose but to exacerbate his already overwhelming sense of guilt.

Quickly, he brought the back of his hand to his eyes and hurriedly wiped away the tears. "Damn it," he swore, not really caring at that point that swearing in a place of worship was hardly appropriate for someone who had just been begging for divine intercession.

Drawing a quick intake of breath, Booth's head snapped up when he saw the door to the chapel open and a small figure with a bent head ducked into the room. Looking over, he mentally groaned as he saw the older woman in a familiar black dress hobbling down the center aisle with a firm glint in her eye. When she reached the row where Booth sat, she stooped for a second in genuflection to the cross that hung over the altar and then daintily took up position at the opposite end of the same row where he was sitting.

Looking down at the floor, Booth mentally cursed at the woman's persistence. He felt her intense brown eyes boring into his weary form. With a heavy sigh, he looked over at the familiar face with a nod of greeting. "Hello, Sister Bernadette."

"Hello, Seeley," she said. "You're a bit early today, huh?"

Glancing down at his watch, Booth returned his tired gaze to the nun's. "I, uh…I hadn't noticed."

"Right," she said. Tilting her head, she nodded at him as she said, "You still look like you're lost."

"I still think that maybe I am," he said with a sigh.

"Well," she gestured with a vague hand around them. "Like I said before, this is a great place to come when you need to get some help to find out where you've been, where you're are, and, maybe most importantly, where you're going."

"I don't know," Booth said with a shake of his head. "I've been coming here for a while now, and I'm still feeling pretty lost, Sister."

Just as she had every day for the past nine days, the nun pursed her lips into a very thin line for a moment before she looked over at him and said, "Well, maybe it would still be a good idea for you to talk about it."

Refraining from rolling his eyes, Booth responded, "And, maybe it wouldn't."

"So," she tried to keep a small smile at his stubbornness from playing at the edge of her lips. "Is this your way of saying you don't want to talk about it?"

"Ummm, yeah," Booth nodded. "That's about the size of it." He paused for a minute and then said, "So, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Every day, for the last nine days, you've come in here and sat down next to me and asked me if I wanted to talk. We do this thing that we do, I say no, you ask if I'm certain, and you wait for a bit, sitting there and scowling at me, before you turn around, say goodbye, and tell me that you'll see me tomorrow. If that same pattern's happened nine times, why on God's green earth would you think that I would eventually change my mind and decide that I want to talk about it?" Booth asked with a heavy sigh.

Again, Sister Bernadette tried to bite back a smile at his slight tirade and refrained from pointing out that her actions had finally resulted in a different outcome as he'd just asked her the question he had. Instead, she merely shrugged and said, "Well, I find that people who keep coming here and say that they're feeling lost don't just keep doing that because it's their idea of having a fun time."

Booth considered the nun's words and then nodded slowly. "I can't really fault your reasoning there, because I'm definitely not coming here because it's my idea of a fun time."

"So, why are you here, then?" the nun asked, her voice low and even.

The silence weighed on him for several seconds, but the stubborn old woman refused to give in and continued to stare at him in expectation. Finally, Booth said tentatively, "Maybe I'm here because it's a good place to hide."

Pursing her lips, the nun slowly shook her head. "Nope. I don't think so."

A slow smile played at the edge of his mouth as Booth tilted his head and responded, "How can you say that with such certainty in your voice? I could be."

"Nope," Sister Bernadette responded as she shook her head. "Nope. A brave man like you doesn't run from anything. And, since you don't run from anything, it means you'd have no reason to hide from anything, so try again."

Taken aback by her statement, Booth blinked at her as he slowly shook his head. "Why would you say something like that? I'm not a brave man."

"Well," she said with a small chuckle. "You've spent the last nine days not backing down from talking to a scary old nun like me, didn't you? I think that takes a certain amount of courage, if nothing else, so, there you go."

His small smile growing a bit, Booth shook his head as he said, "Well, forgive me, Sister, but I've known a lot of nuns over the course of my life, and I say this with all due respect and devotion, with no offense intended, of course, but you don't even come close to cracking the top ten in scariness."

Raising her eyes to meet his, Sister Bernadette's brow furrowed a bit before she asked, "Ahhh, a Catholic boy, huh?"

Lifting his hand, Booth gestured with the Rosary beads that he held. The nun smiled when she saw them.

"I see how it is then," Sister Bernadette said with a knowing look coming into her eyes. She paused for a few seconds and then she nodded at him again. "Okay, considering that little detail then, maybe I can try a different tack."

"Okay," Booth nodded.

"So, how about this as to why you should talk to me—"

"What?" Booth chuckled as he interrupted the nun. "Habit?" He stopped, glanced at the nun, and then bit back a smirk as he added, "No pun intended, of course."

"Of course," Sister Bernadette said. She then shot Booth a look as she said, "It's not like I haven't heard _that_ one before."

"Sorry," he laughed quietly.

"So," she said. "Try this one on for size. Maybe you should talk to me since I might just be the answer to your prayer there." She pointed at his Rosary beads. "So, how about that? He does work in mysterious ways like that, as I'm sure a good Catholic boy like you is well aware."

Chuckling, Booth replied, "Yeah…" His voice trailed off as the smile slowly fell off of his face, and he became serious. Swallowing once, Booth said, "You know, uh, I've been trying to figure out what those plans are, Sister, and I'm not having a lot of luck with that one."

"Well," she said, her voice becoming a bit softer as she nodded at him. "Maybe you just need a second pair of eyes and ears to help you on that one, so maybe now's a good time to spill, huh?"

Clasping his hands, Booth looked away. Bernadette frowned, certain that she'd been so close to finally cracking the young man who was obviously in so much pain. She saw his brow furrow and his jaw tighten, and she opened her mouth to speak when suddenly she was cut off by a voice that was thick with strangulated emotion.

"Do you know what the three most horrible letters in the entire alphabet are, Sister?"

Uncertain how to proceed, as she sensed the delicate nature of the situation, but also knowing that she needed to give some type of response, she hoped that a touch of humor wouldn't go amiss as she drew a breath and finally replied. "LOL? FYI? IMO?"

Unable to bite back a small smile, Booth said, "No." The smile then disappeared as quickly as it had come as he said with a heavy voice. "TBI."

Instantly, the older woman couldn't help but intake a swift breath that Booth knew signified her comprehension of the acronym's meaning. Nodding at him after a minute, she confirmed his assumption as she said, "Ahh, yeah. Those _are _pretty bad."

Although he didn't need to say it, Booth did anyway as he said, "Traumatic Brain Injury."

Knowing she needed to tread gently, but still needed to press forward, Sister Bernadette said, "So, that's it then?"

"What?" he asked, a look of confusion coming onto his face.

"Is that what you think you're running from?" the nun asked.

"Not think, Sister," Booth corrected gently. "I know it is."

"And, how's that?" she prodded lightly.

"Because," he said simply. "I've been doing it for nine days."

"Oh," she responded, comprehension suddenly dawning. "Nine days. Right."

"Yeah," Booth sighed. "Nine days of split shifts―four hours for sleep, two hours to go home, change, and eat, four hours in the chapel, and the rest in ICU."

"And, does this person that you've been spending fourteen hours a day in ICU with have a name?" she inquired.

Nodding slowly, he looked away as he said in a voice that was almost no louder than a whisper. "Yeah."

He seemed to be struggling with what to say next, but sensing that if she let him stop talking now that she might not be able to get him to open up again, the nun waited a full two minutes, letting the silence grow between them, before she said, "So, are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?"

Looking over at her, Booth swallowed once before he said in a rough voice, "Her name is Temperance."

"And," the nun said quietly. "Is this Temperance your mother?" Booth gave a slow shake of his head. "Your sister?" He gave another shake. "Your wife?" Booth winced at her words and struggled to clarify the situation as he felt his eyes water once more.

"Partner," he finally managed.

Nodding, she said, "So, you two don't believe in marriage?"

"I do," he said, looking up, the honesty in his eyes shining brightly. "God, I do. There's nothing more I want in this world than to marry the woman I love―protect her…keep her safe…love her."

"But….?" the nun prodded.

"But," Booth said, quickly wiping a stray tear away. "But, she doesn't believe in marriage."

Nodding, the nun said, "Maybe she'll change her mind."

"God, I'd love to believe that," Booth said. "But…right now that might not even be an option because of the TBI."

She saw the pain in his face as he obviously thought of her at the mention of the very hated acronym. However, knowing that even while it was painful that it would be better to get him to talk than to keep it bottled in, she asked, "How did it happen?"

"An accident," Booth said, looking up quickly. "There was an accident, and she fell, and hit her head…and I almost lost her three times before they even admitted her to the ER. If it hadn't have been for an ER attending that was worried that I was going to slap him with a med-mal lawsuit when they admitted her, I probably would have lost her for good, too."

"But, you were stubborn and insisted," she finished for him.

"Yeah," Booth said, bringing his hand up to run through his hair in absentminded distraction. "I had to…I had to give her a chance you know?"

"And, now?"

"Now," Booth said. "She's in the ICU, in a medical coma, hooked up to all those goddamn machines that are keeping her alive, with a respirator doing the breathing for her, and we're waiting for her to wake up―"

"And, until she does, you're blaming yourself," Sister Bernadette said. "You're blaming yourself for what happened to her, aren't you?"

"How can I not?" Booth asked, fresh tears running down his cheeks. "Because, it was―you know? It was all my fault…all of it. I let her down, I didn't do what I needed to protect her, and I'm a failure. Everything that happened…it's all my fault."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - I don't know how pleased I am with this chapter. I actually had one completed draft, but lost the file and so had to rewrite it from scratch, hence the delay. I don't know if it works or not, but maybe you guys can tell me. Many thanks in advance for everyone who shared their comments on the Prologue. Please…don't fall silent now. This story is somewhat experimental for me, so I'm a bit uncertain how things are working or not. I need you guys to tell me—good, not good, indifferent, uninteresting? Does it work or not? The angsty nature of this chapter will lessen somewhat in the next part of the story, but come on…as many of you commented, did anyone really _not_ expect a guilty-Booth to show up? But, now that that's out of the way, onward and upward, right? Coming up next: what's happening to Brennan while Booth is in the chapel and will it be the answer to his prayer(s) or not? If you want to know, you know what to do. Thanks in advance!~


	3. Ch2:How She Started to Live Another Life

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan _was_ inseminated as planned.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2 – How She Started to Live Another Life<span>

* * *

><p>A watchful pair of blue eyes stared at the small and almost lifeless body that lay cocooned in a white-colored swathe of coarse hospital sheets and blankets. He sat on the windowsill in the room as that was the furthest point away from where she lay. Technically, he was still in her sickroom and could watch over her, but he felt that he was far enough away from where the single chair that sat unoccupied beside her bed that he wasn't overstepping his mandate.<p>

"But, it's not too far because I still need to be able to look after you, kiddo," Max Keenan said with a small nod. "Your sickroom's not really big enough for the both of us, so you may not always see me, but I'm here―I may not have been there in the past, but I am now, Tempe…I am now."

Tilting his head, he stared at her bruised and battered form. Although she looked much better than she had nine days before, she still bore the signs of the trauma her body had endured. Her skin, translucent and faintly blue in places from where visible bruises were healing, looked nothing like it's normal creamy smoothness. Various lines and tubes crept out from underneath her textile cocoon. The respirator tube was by far the most pronounced. But, there were others. Her I.V. and other so-called 'deep lines' that allowed for her survival: a feeding tube, suctioning lines, and a catheter. Her head was still bandaged, and Max winced to think of what practical haircut she might have to endure to compensate for the places on her skull where her lovely auburn hair had been removed for practicality's sake. Fortunately, by the time that Max sat looking at his youngest child and only daughter, the most egregious sign of her traumatic experience had been removed. A small white gauze pad lay taped at her temple where it had once sat.

"I hated that one the most," Max said as he wagged his index finger at her forehead. "I'm so glad it's gone. It just sucked, baby girl. Every time that damn machine started to beep, it was the first thing your neurosurgeon checked to see if the ICP had gotten any worse." He smiled and then arched an eyebrow at her as he said, "Of course, I could've told him that your brain wasn't going to swell too much because you already have a big head. You get that from me, you know that right?"

The only response to Max's question was the steady beeping of Brennan's cardiac monitor.

"Nine days, Tempe," he said. "You know…I've been here once before? I had to do this with your mother after that bastard hit her. She woke up after five days. I know I don't talk a lot about her. It's not because I don't want to talk about her. Christine…I loved your mother, Tempe. And, I'd talk about her every day if I didn't think it would hurt you to hear what I have to say. There were so many things that you never knew about her that I wish you did. I wish you could've known her like I did…not just as a mother, but as a person. She was such an incredible woman, Tempe. But, I mean―she had to be, huh? She put up with me for how many years, right? Your average, ordinary woman couldn't do that without going nuts. But, she did…and she loved me for it. And, that made me love her all the more, you know?" Max paused and then smiled as he added, "God, I loved that woman…just like I love you, Tempe. That's another reason you know you're mother was such an extraordinary woman, right? You're her daughter in so many ways, Tempe. She'd be so proud of you, of all you've done―of the life you've worked to create. I just wish that you knew that you don't always need to show her up, huh? I mean, we all know that you've held out this long just because you want to be able to say that you not only did her one better, but you did that…and then some."

Standing up from where he sat proper up on the edge of the windowsill, Max took a tentative step towards her as he hesitantly held out his hand towards the bed. He bit back a curse as he saw his hand shake a bit as he slowly approached her. Forcing his hand to still as he walked to her bedside, Max Keenan gently reached out and rested a gentle hand on the top of her covered thigh.

"I'm not sure where you are, baby girl, but please―we're here, waiting for you. All of us. Me…Russ…your friends…Angela…and Booth," Max let his words trail off as he gave his daughter a wry smile. "He's barely left your side for a minute, baby girl. That one there…he cares about you―you know that, huh?"

He paused and then nodded. "That one, there, Tempe―he's pretty fierce. But, I think you know that already, right?"

Letting his fingers lightly stroke her thigh in a rhythmic motion, just as he used to stroke her back when she was a baby sleeping in her bassinet, Max smiled and nodded as he repeated a single word.

"Fierce."

* * *

><p>Although Dr. Temperance Brennan's body was in that hospital room with her father, her mind, heart, and soul started to drift somewhere else in those days when she needed to heal physically from the trauma that she'd sustained.<p>

And, so it was no surprise when she went to that other place―one that was so similar to the world that she'd left behind…or at least, it once was, but for one, teeny, tiny difference―and that she was ultimately drawn there because of _him_.

* * *

><p><em>"I will <span>never<span> work with you again," she spat at him, her tone full of her scathing bile and piercing venom._

_He stared at her angry form, their blazing eyes locked in fierce combat, neither one ready or willing to back down in that oh, so crucial second. At last, he blinked and rolled his jaw slowly as the nerves in his face reminded him that his left cheek still was ablaze in pain where the outline of her hand marked the place at she'd slapped him so hard. Booth knew in that moment, that if he'd looked in a mirror, he was certain his normally chiseled jaw would be marred by the imprint of her hand. Brennan, her nostrils flaring and her chest heaving in short gasps as she tried to get a handle on her rage, shook her head once as she sneered at him and then furiously turned away. Grabbing her jacket from the chair where she'd left it in front of his desk in the agents' bullpen, she finally stormed off without a second backward glance._

_Booth watched her retreating form, feeling a flare of indignation at the insult of her curt dismissal of him._

_"Who asked you?" he yelled after her, although he doubted that Brennan would be able to hear him as she continued to stalk away._

_Raising his right hand to the jaw that she'd so expertly smashed, he rolled his jaw from side-to-side for a moment as he watched her walk out of his life. As he watched her go, his eyes fixed on the direction in which she'd disappeared, for some reason, he felt a knot in his stomach tighten as he swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. He blinked several times at where she'd been standing…and a series of images flashed in his mind: a lecture hall and an egotistical smile; a conference room and Gemma Arrington singing on a small TV screen; a kiss on a stoop in front of an old pool hall in the rain. The last image, being as it was the most recent, seemed to have more power than the rest. As he considered the image, he felt a pressure building and a gentle hum getting louder in his head._

_Go after her. Go after her. Go after her!_

_And, for some inexplicable reason that he couldn't really fathom, quite suddenly Booth's feet were in motion, and he was literally running after Brennan._

_He caught up to her just as she's stomped into the elevator that was, for once, mercifully empty. At the heavy thud of his foot falls, Brennan's eyes shot up. They widened is obvious surprise and slight panic as she saw Booth's approaching form. Even though the rational part of her brain knew it was useless, she used her index finger to jab the button for the ground floor. She silently urged the door to shut, and almost as if the doors were complying with her silent plea, they started to shut. Booth watched in horror as the elevator doors started to close. Putting on an extra burst of speed, Booth closed his eyes, muttered a prayer to the Holy Mother, and threw himself as hard as he could between the closing chasm of the elevators doors. Instead of feeling the cold smack of steel against his face as he'd expected, he toppled into the elevator and fell onto the floor as he stumbled inside. Brennan watched the entire debacle in mock horror. When the elevator doors binged once after Booth's herculean effort and closed shut, leaving the two of them effectively trapped together, a new panic washed over her._

_Forcing herself to take a breath, Brennan clenched her fists as she re-concentrated a surge of anger she felt at his person. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled at him._

_Stumbling to rise, Booth did his best to right himself as he looked up at her. After a few precious seconds, he was on his feet, still on the far side of the elevator from her, but he held his hands high in supplication._

_"Bones―" he said tentatively._

_"Don't call me that!" she almost screeched._

_Booth was taken aback by the tone of her voice. His surprise increase when another bit of sensory information then registered in his mind's eye. Although she was doing her best to brush the tears away, he could see she'd been crying._

_For some reason, he wasn't sure what to do. But, in that moment, he desperately didn't want to see her in pain, and he knew he wanted to do anything he could to make it better for her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes wide with sincerity as he looked at her with a firm nod of his head._

_A dazed look came over Brennan's face as she considered his words before she responded, "W-what…what did you just say?"_

_"I said…." His voice trailed off. Swallowing once, he steeled his resolve as he said in a firmer voice, "I'm sorry."_

_Glancing at the pinging of the elevator floor buttons as they headed towards the ground floor, Booth suddenly knew that if he didn't make things right between them before they reached the bottom level that he might never get a chance to do so. Thus, his hand immediately shot out. Slamming the Emergency Stop button, the elevator jerked to a stop, causing the two occupants to shake slightly as the momentum affected their position as a siren began to wail._

_Brennan stared at him in abject shock, blinking through the tears as she gasped, "Why did you do that?"_

_"Because," he said. "I need to talk to you, and we're not leaving here until I make things right between us and you accept my apology."_

_Letting her clenched fists fall to her sides, Brennan bit her lip before she said, "Who in the hell do you think you are?"_

_"I'm sorry," he said as he took a step closer towards her, closing the distance between them, unable to help himself as he acted on instinct. "I'm so sorry, Bones."_

_"Don't call me that―" she said, watching him closely. "That's not my name."_

_Cracking a small smile, he nodded as he said smoothly, "Well, it is now, so you better get used to it." Taking another step towards her, his arms still raised in supplication, he said, "I come in peace here, Bones."_

_"Touch me again, and I'm―"_

_"What?" he said, leaning into her personal space, raising his warm brown eyes to meet her cool blue ones. "What are you going to do to me, Bones?"_

_"What are you doing, Booth?" she said, struggling to breathe as his scent washed over again and made her start to forget important things…like her own name._

_"I'm trying to say I'm sorry here," he said. Brennan's body was still tense, but somehow he knew that she wouldn't hit him as he risked leaning in closer and closer to her. "Will you let me apologize, Bones?"_

_She blinked at him once, but it was only when Booth leaned in and gently kissed her lips that he actually got an answer._

* * *

><p><em>The following evening, Brennan tried to put off the feeling of awkwardness that she felt as Booth guided her through a set of heavyset wooden double doors. She bit back a frown as he let his hand hover lightly over the small of her back as he guided her into a restaurant whose sign proclaimed it 'Wong Foo's'. She resisted making a face as she took in the dark red coloring and muted lighting of the restaurant's ambiance. Upon entering the Chinese restaurant, Booth gestured to a booth, and Brennan reluctantly followed.<em>

_Once they were seated, Booth smiled at her and said, "There now…that's not so bad, is it?"_

_Brennan considered his words and then slowly shook her head. "No." She paused and then said, "Why are we here again?"_

_"Because," Booth said. "What I did yesterday was a pretty shitty thing to do―"_

_"I did apologize for hitting you," Brennan quickly said, her tone clearly somewhat defensive._

_Smiling at her slightly, Booth said, "I know."_

_"Good," Brennan responded with a firm nod. "Just so we're clear that you're not the only one who can admit that you were in the wrong…because I did, too."_

_"I know," he laughed again. "Now, like I was saying…what I did was pretty shitty…and I wanted to clear the air before I tossed out this little idea I want to run by you."_

_Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Brennan said, "This doesn't have anything to do with when you kissed me again in the elevator yesterday, does it, Booth?"_

_"No," he replied with a chuckle. Then, stopping, he looked up at her and said, "Unless you want it to?"_

_"No," Brennan said, again, a bit too quickly. "I think you made your point effectively, and there's no need to mix our professional and personal lives again."_

_"Right," Booth nodded at her. "Yeah, right…of course. So, anyway―like I was saying…I have this idea that I want to run by you."_

_"And, that would be?" Brennan asked._

_"I couldn't have nailed that son-of-a-bitch judge if it weren't for you and the other squints on this case, Bones," Booth said. "You…you made my job a lot easier―and, I'd like you to consider…maybe making it a permanent thing."_

_"What?" Brennan asked, a look of confusion crossing her face. "What do you mean?"_

_"You know," Booth nodded at her. "Maybe you and the other squints would keep working with me on these toughies."_

_"Me?" Brennan asked. "As what…your partner?"_

_"Well," he said, squirming a bit in his seat as he considered her words and then slowly nodded his head in agreement of her proposal. "Yeah."_

_"Are you saying that you'd really give me full participation in the cases?" Brennan inquired as she shifted in the booth and turned to face him more fully._

_"Fine," he nodded. "Yes."_

_"Not just lab work," she clarified with a raised eyebrow. "Everything?"_

_Slowly nodding his head, Booth said, "What? Do you want me to spit in my hand? We're Scully and Mulder."_

_"I don't know what that means," Brennan said with a blank look writ on her face._

_"It means, you're in, okay?" Booth told her with an expectant look on his face._

_"Partners?" Brennan tested the word on her tongue as she let her curious blue eyes meet his._

_Extending a hand firmly towards hers, Booth couldn't help but feel a tiny frisson of excitement leap in him as she clasped it and nodded._

_"Partners," he said with a smile._

* * *

><p><em>The pair stood in front of the Departing Flights board at Dulles International Airport. Booth reached out and let his hand linger as it covered hers for a few seconds longer than necessary while he watched her scan the Departing Flights schedule for her Aviateca Airlines flight number.<em>

_"I wish you didn't have to go," he said, his voice quiet and full of a heaviness that they both felt and had been since she'd told him of the trip._

_Brennan didn't move to pull her hand away, but she did let her fingers curl up to intertwine with his when she turned to look at the man who'd been her partner…and become a close friend in the past year._

_"We talked about this," she said softly. "It's been a year, Booth. I haven't gone on any trips to do active fieldwork for a year."_

_"What are you talking about?" he asked, flashing her a toothy grin that belied how depressed he actually felt. "You come into the field with me almost every damn day, don't you?"_

_"Anthropological field work," she corrected him gently. "I've put it off for much longer than I ever thought I would, Booth. And, I need to go. I need to spend some time making certain that I'm keeping my skill set sharp."_

_"And, the only way you can do that is to go prowl around in the mass graves in Guatemala to look for―"_

_"Victims of genocide," Brennan said, taking a step towards closer to him, almost breaching the bounds of his personal space, but not quite. "It's a UN initiative, Booth…and they need me."_

_"I know that," he sighed. "I know that. I get that, Bones. I really do…I just don't like it―and I wish you didn't have to go."_

_"It's only for eight weeks," Brennan said quietly. "I only accepted the offer if they agreed to take the shortened work schedule that I proposed as a condition of my acceptance. Remember, they originally wanted me to be gone twice as long."_

_"I know," Booth grumbled, clearly displeased at being reminded of that particular thought. "I know. But, it's eight weeks, Bones."_

_"Eight weeks isn't so long," she said softly. "Just think of all the time you'll get to spend with Parker…and you'll still have Zack and Angela and Hodgins to help you while I'm gone. I spoke with Goodman about that, so it shouldn't be an issue."_

_"Great," Booth muttered. "A Vulcan, a boho-chic artist, and a paranoid conspiracy theorist. All they need to do is walk into a bar, and it's got the makings of a great dirty joke."_

_Lifting her questioning gaze to meet his, Brennan said, "I'm not certain I know what that means."_

_"Nothing, Bones," her partner sighed. "It's just…I just wish you didn't have to go."_

_"I'll be in touch via email," she reminded him with a smile. "And, I'll try to call you every three to four days, if not sooner."_

_Booth made a slight face, and then gave her what could only be described as a classic 'puppy dog look'._

_Chuckling, Brennan said, "Oh, come on, now…don't look at me like that."_

_"Like what?" he said pitifully, even going so far as to stick out his bottom lip slightly._

_Chuckling, Brennan let her hand fall away from his as she pointed her index finger at him. "That," she said. "Don't do that thing that you always do―that thing…right there."_

_"What?" he asked, the perfect picture of innocence, even though they both knew exactly what she was talking about.  
><em>

_"Booth―" she sighed._

_And, suddenly, cutting Brennan off, he pulled her into a tight embrace. As he held her, he tilted his head slightly so that his mouth was close to her ear as he whispered, "You know the only reason I'm really not hopping on the next flight to be with you, right?"_

_"Because," she whispered back to him. "You know if you don't...if you give me this time and space that I'll give you an answer to your question when I return."_

_"Yeah," he breathed into her ear. "That's right...and, you will, won't you?"_

_Letting her cheek rest against his broad shoulders for a minute, she inhaled the scent of him and once again felt her knees go weak as she contemplated the question he'd asked her earlier. At last, drawing apart, she gave him a radiant smile and nodded._

_"You'll have my answer when I get back," she told him. "I promise."_

* * *

><p>And, as Brennan continued to dream, the disparity between the chronology of her fantasy world and the real world continued to increase at a dramatic rate―not that <em>she <em>knew the difference…although, eventually she would…and that fact would eventually make _all_ the difference in the world.

* * *

><p>A weary Special Agent Seeley Booth chose that particular moment to enter Dr. Temperance Brennan's hospital room. He nodded once at Max, as the older man meet his gaze before he moved to let Booth resume his vigil. But, as Max removed his hand from Brennan's thigh, something suddenly happened that moment that caught both men's attention. Brennan's cardiac monitor began to go crazy with shrill beeps coming in rapid succession. Both men stared at one another and then turned their concerned and hopeful attention to focus wholly and solely Brennan. And, both men felt their hearts leap into their throats as suddenly a third pair of eyes slowly blinked open and awoke to face the reality of this world once more...whether she was ready to face it or not.<p>

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - Many of you seemed more pleased with the second chapter than I was…so I shall bow to public sentiment and trust that you guys know better than I. I'm sure after having read this third chapter, some of you will have questions. That's as it should be...answers will be forthcoming...at some point. For now, coming up next: Brennan's awake…but what _does_ she remember, what _doesn't_ she remember…and what's actually happened while she's been MIA? And, more importantly…how does Booth have to handle having to tell her what's happened? If any of this sounds interesting, then please…not that I'm above begging for feedback, but I cherish reviews…even the monosyllabic or emoticon ones! It lets me know that you guys are still reading this and want to see what comes next. So, yeah…help me to give you what you want. It's a scientific fact that fan fic authors who get more reviews post chapters more quickly…so…ummmm…do your thing, and I promise that I'll do mine. ;)


	4. Ch3:It Felt So Real For Her, Too

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan *was* inseminated as planned.

Author's Note - This is the part where I tip my hat and salute the most excellent Boothifying services of Flying Monkey Beta, Inc. That is all. :)~

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3 – It Felt So Real For Her, Too<span>

* * *

><p>Two pairs of concerned eyes stared, nervous and yet, despite it all, with optimism nervousness at a third pair of bright blue irises. Booth felt his heart jump into his throat and his heart begin to pound as he wondered if he was seeing things.<p>

_Is that it? _he thought. _Have I finally gone and cracked? Have I been waiting here for so long―hoping, wishing, praying for her to come out of this, that now I've just finally gone around the bend? Am I so stressed and tired that I'm just finally seeing things?_

Afraid that he might actually be seeing things, a part of Booth was terrified to look away from Brennan's hospital bed. A part of him was scared out of his mind that if he turned away from her, or even blinked, when he refocused his eyes on his partner, he'd see her in exactly the same condition in which he'd spent the last nine days looking at her―unconscious, unresponsive, cold, and far, far away from him. No, he was unable to tear his gaze away from the face that he'd spent a week and a half hoping and praying would look at him like she was now finally doing.

After several hopeful seconds, Max finally dared to let his eyes fall over to where his daughter's partner stood. Noticing that Booth was, in a word, transfixed with the sight of Brennan's open eyes, Max waited a moment before he spoke.

"Booth?" he dared to ask, his voice gentle and calm when he spoke. However, despite Max's best intentions, as soon as he spoke, his words had the opposite effect, as they broke the FBI agent's focus and clearly startled him. "Kid?"

Without looking away from where Brennan lay in the hospital bed, now seemingly awake, Booth replied quietly, "Oh, God, Max. I'm not seeing things…am I? Her eyes…she's awake, right?"

Taking a few steps towards him, Max reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Booth's shoulder as he smiled. "Yeah kid." His smile widened as he looked at where his daughter continued to stare at them. "I mean, if you think you're seeing things, then so am I."

As Booth took a nervous step towards the bed, Max let his hand fall away. Reaching out, Booth hesitantly placed the flat of his hand on the foot of Brennan's bed. Tilting his head, he arched his eyebrows and nodded at her. "Bones?"

At his saying of her name, Brennan blinked once, but showed no other sign of movement. However, the whirring and beeping of her cardiac monitors _did _show that there was some response. Brennan's heart rate increased as did her blood pressure. Feeling a rush of excitement at the increasing sounds of the machines that were monitoring her life signs, Booth finally let his eyes be torn away from Brennan's visage. His watchful stare bounced back from the machines to Max as he made sense of what he was seeing.

Smiling, he finally said, "Max…oh, God. She's awake."

Unable to stop himself from letting Booth's hopeful optimism affect him, Max felt a smile creep over his face. Gesturing towards the door, Max said, "I'm, uh, gonna go find her doctor, I think."

Nodding his head in response, Booth answered, "Yeah, yeah. That's, uhh, a good idea."

"Okay, then," Max smiled again. "I'll be right back." He moved quickly on his feet and was halfway out the door before he snapped his finger, turned on his heel, and pointed at Booth. "Take care of her, huh, Booth?"

Not letting his gaze break away from where it had drifted back to where Brennan lay in the bed, Booth smiled as he heard Max leave the room before he could hear his response. "Always."

Shifting slightly, Booth came to the side of her bed and collapsed into the chair where he'd spent so many hours sitting, thinking, hoping, crying, sighing, dozing, praying, lamenting, regretting, hoping some more, and finally feeling as if perhaps all he'd thought and felt as he'd kept vigil at her sickbed hadn't been in vain. _Maybe…maybe the Big Guy upstairs finally heard me? Is this what it's like to have a prayer answered? _Booth wondered to himself, slightly in awe as he contemplated the possibility.

Reaching out, Booth slowly let his fingers tread across Brennan's blankets. For the first time since she'd opened her eyes, he saw her attempt to move another part of her body. Her respiration increased, and her brow furrowed in concentration, and after a few tense seconds, she finally flexed her fingers on the hand that was closest to the side of her bed where Booth sat. Wiggling her fingers on her left hand once more, once she had done so, she leaned back into the bed. It was clear as soon as she'd managed to move her fingers that the effort had exhausted her. Still, she looked up at Booth with clear understanding burning in her bright blue eyes.

"Can you understand me?" Booth asked as he reached out and closed the distance between where her hand had fallen on the blanket and where his own hand rested at the edge of the bed. Pulling her hand to him, he grasped it tightly as she said, "Do you know what I'm saying?"

However, instead attempting to make any verbal response or shift another part of her body again, all Brennan could do was stare at him and blink.

"Oh, okay," Booth said. "Ummm…the intubation…it's, well, you're not going to be able to talk while it's still in place, Bones. They can't take it out yet, but, maybe…maybe you could still communicate―" He stopped, watched Brennan methodically blink again and then smiled as an idea came to him. "Hey, how about this. You don't seem to have any problem blinking those gorgeous blue eyes of yours. So, maybe―maybe we could talk that way? Maybe…maybe you could blink to answer? Maybe it would work if…one blink to answer 'yes' and two blinks to answer 'no'?" He stopped and then tilted his head at her. "What do you think?"

Very clearly, Brennan opened and closed her eyes in a distinctive blink.

"Was that a yes?" Booth asked.

Again, Brennan blinked once.

Watching her very intently, Booth's smile grew as he realized that she'd understood him.

"Oh, that's awesome," he said. "Just great." He stopped and then another, more serious, thought occurred to him. "Wait, are you in any pain?" Her eyes seemed to narrow at his question, and almost seemed to say: _Don't ask a stupid question, Booth_. He then quickly shook off his feeling of embarrassment as he quickly amended his question, "I mean, God, of course, you're feeling pain. You've been hurt. I mean, after everything's that's happened to you, of course you're feeling pain. I guess…I just want to know―is it bearable?"

A response of one blink came to answer his question.

"Do you know where you are?" he asked.

Another single blink.

"Do you know who I am?" he questioned her.

One more blink.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

For once, the pattern of 'yes' responses stopped as a slow progression of two blinks signaled 'no' to him.

Swallowing a heavy lump that came into his throat at that moment, Booth wondered how best to string the words together to convey enough information to her without overwhelming her. Taking a breath, he absentmindedly began to use his thumb to stroke the softness of her hand. "Okay, ummm. There was an accident. We…we were in the field on a call. There was a suspect and―" His voice trailed off as he caught in his mind's eye a slow-motion replay of what it had looked like when Brennan lost her balance and fell away from Grant and to the ground. Shaking it away, he again swallowed, despite the fact that his throat had gone very, very dry. Taking another breath, he steeled his resolve as he finished his earlier thoughts. "Well, uhh, long story short….you fell, Bones." He tightened his grip on her hand as he then said, in a slightly scratchy voice. "Do you…do you remember any of that?"

Slowly, two blinks came.

Booth felt another stab of pain as he realized how much he would have to explain to Brennan. _God, give me strength_. Not sure where to begin, he struggled to gather his thoughts. Hoping to stall for time, he raised his trouble brown eyes to Brennan's and said, "But, you remember who you are? You know who I am?"

Very methodically, Brennan blinked once, paused in a clear attempt to distinguish a break in her blinking pattern, and then blinked once more, her eyes burning bright with meaning. _It's okay_, they almost seemed to tell him. _Whatever it is, it's okay…just tell me._

Feeling somewhat strengthened by the message that she seemed to convey with her eyes, Booth had just opened his mouth to speak again when the door to the hospital room was opened. Breaking eye contact with her, Booth looked over and saw Max enter the room with a slew of medical personnel including a man who knew to be one of the main physicians who had been treating Brennan during her time in ICU.

Taking in the scene before him, the doctor's eyes flickered from Booth to Brennan and back again.

"Well, hello there," he said as he nodded at Booth. "How long has she been awake?"

"About five or ten minutes," Booth replied instantly.

"And, she's been responsive to your voice?" he asked as he flipped through Brennan's chart and glanced at the two nurses who were on the opposite side of the bed and had begun to take readings.

"Yeah," Booth responded. "She has."

"Okay," the doctor said with a happy nod at Booth. "That's great." Turning so that he fully faced the bed, the doctor made eye contact with Brennan. "Okay, Dr. Brennan. My name is Dr. Schafer. I'm one of your physicians."

Brennan's eyes flashed to lock on Booth. She purposely blinked once.

Lifting his gaze to the doctor, Booth said, "She understood that."

"And, how do you know that?" Schafer asked.

"I've been asking her some questions since she woke up. One blink is for 'yes' and two blinks for 'no'," Booth told the doctor.

"Oh, okay," Schafer said. "Then, what have you found out so far?"

"She knows who she is," Booth said. "She knows who she is, where she is, and who I am, but she doesn't remember what happened…the events that happened shortly before she had her accident. She doesn't remember what happened that put her here."

Schafer considered Booth's words and then looked back at Brennan. "Well, that's not really surprising. That information would be a part of her short-term memory. It's possible, given how high her ICP was at times since the accident, that the swelling caused some damage to the hippocampus that's resulted in some form of retrograde amnesia."

For the first time in quite a while, Booth suddenly realized that they weren't alone as Max took a step towards the pair, nodded at the doctor, and said in a voice that clearly indicated his decision to insert himself into the conversation, "Amnesia?"

"Of a type, Mr. Keenan, yes," Schafer said.

"And, is it…permanent?" Max asked, as he worked very hard to keep his voice from shaking. "Or, is it temporary?"

"Until we continue to see how much her swelling has gone down, and we run some new tests to determine the extent of the semi-permanent and permanent brain damage, I'm not able to say," Schafer told them.

"Doc―" Max began to interrupt.

In what was a fairly conciliatory tone, Schafer looked at both men as he said, "Mr. Keenan, Mr. Booth―look, I know you're anxious to have some answers about Dr. Brennan's prognosis. And, I'm as anxious to give you those answers as you are to know them, but I can't do that until I've had a chance to examine my patient."

Immediately taking the meaning of Schafer's words, Booth said, "You need us to get out of your hair for a while is what you're saying, isn't it?"

Nodding slowly, Schafer responded, " Yes. That would be helpful." Schafer's gaze looked down at Brennan was a reassuring bent as he told Booth, "You don't need to go far or for very long―just for a few minutes."

Still holding Brennan's hand, he squeezed it once and said quietly, "Is that okay with you, Bones? We won't go far, I promise. We'll just wait outside in the hall?" He looked up at the doctor to see if Schafer agreed with his words.

Giving the man a thumbs up sign, Schafer told them, "Perfect."

Squeezing her hand again, Booth asked Brennan, "All right?"

Brennan stared at Booth and gave him a single pointed response as she blinked at him.

Nodding, Booth lifted her hand to his and placed a gentle kiss on their intertwined fingers. She looked at him curiously as he bent down and settled her hand back on the bed gently. Leaning down, he whispered to her, "God, I missed you." Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he said, "Be right back, Bones." Straightening his stance, he gave her one last smile and waited for her response.

It came in the form of a single blink and as much of a smile as she could manage given the fact that an intubation tube was thrust down her throat. Feeling a bit optimistic, Booth gestured for Max to follow him outside into the hallway.

As the doctors and nurses attended to Brennan in her hospital room, Booth and Max found themselves shunted out into the hallway in order to give the medical personnel room to work unhindered by overtly concerned family members who had a tendency to hover.

Thus, standing as they were in the hallway, as Booth leaned against the wall that stood opposite the door to Brennan's sickroom, he finally realized it was the first moment he'd had to himself since she'd woken up Feeling a bit lightheaded at the realization, some of the thoughts and feelings that necessity had kept him from processing started to wash over him. As Booth felt a wave of emotion envelop him, his heart rate increased, and a cold sweat broke out across his brow as he tried to make sense of what had occurred and what still needed to be done. Placing his hands on his knees, he looked down at the floor and started to inhale short and measured breaths. Exhaling evenly, it took him a couple of minutes to get his bearings.

Max watched Booth with a slight frown given how positive a frame of mind the FBI agent had seemed to have while they were in his daughter's sick room. Stepping forward, Max nodded at the younger man, working to keep his voice quiet and not above more than a whisper. "How you doing there, kid?"

Tilting his head as he looked over at Max, Booth sucked down another couple of gulps of air as he said, "You know what, Max? I've been praying for her to wake up for nine days and now that she has…well, I know I should be doing great. But―"

"But," Max said with a knowing look coming into his eyes. "You're not."

"No," Booth responded with a quick shake of his head. "No, I'm not."

"We've been over this more than once since she was brought in here, Booth," Max said.

"I know," he responded quietly.

"Several times," Max reminded him of their prior conversations, sometimes ones that had last for a couple of hours at a time. "The last time we did, you said we wouldn't have to play another round of the blame game, but it seems like we're right back here." He paused for a few seconds before he added, "She's okay, Booth. She's made it this far, right? And, now, she's awake. So, remember what the docs said when they first brought her in? They said she'd go either one of two ways and be―"

"A major miracle given the severity of her case if she lived or a major tragedy given how quickly her case deteriorated," Booth said, as he recited what was a well-worn mantra given to them by her doctors back to Brennan's father in a parroted imitation. Bringing his hand to his forehead, he sighed in exasperation as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know that, but―"

"Booth," Max said. "Look, I know there's still a long way to go, here, but…she's awake. That proves she's the 'major miracle'…just like the docs said."

"God, Max, I know," Booth sighed. "I know that…but, that long way to go…have you forgotten what that entails?"

Max stared at Booth and the two men held their respective gazes for several long seconds. Then, slowly, Max shook his head. "No, Booth―I haven't forgotten what that means."

"Then, you know I still have to tell her what happened," Booth said slowly.

Max took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled as he nodded and said, "She's been through a lot, Booth―more than most people…and more than most people, she's going to know that the human body can only take so much of a beating―"

"Yeah, Max," Booth sighed again. "That's all well and good…but, it's one thing to tell her that she's had a bad run of things. But, it's another thing to have to tell her…." Booth's voice trailed off as he looked at the door to Brennan's room again. He felt the knot that had been in his throat earlier reappear as his eyes water slightly.

"You're thinking about the baby," Max said quietly. "Aren't you?"

Swallowing once, Booth took a few more deep breaths before he barely could breathe a response. "Yeah." He paused and then shook his head as he said, "I don't know how I'm gonna be able to do it, Max. I just don't know how I can tell her that she lost her baby."

Max licked his lips for a minute and then said, "I can…that is, if it would be easier for you, I'll do it."

Unable to help himself, Booth gave a tired smile as he said, "No…it was my baby that she was carrying. I-I…I have to be the one to do it. I need to be the one to tell her." He stopped and then said, "But, I appreciate the fact that you're willing to do that for me."

"Whatever you need, kid," Max said softly.

"Thanks," Booth nodded, raising his palm to his eyes as he quickly brushed away a few stray tears that had escaped, despite his best efforts not to cry.

A heavy silence fell across the pair that Max knew he could only let go on for a certain amount of time before something, _anything _needed to be said, lest Booth let the guilt he'd been fighting to keep at bay since Brennan's accident overwhelm him.

His voice calm and as reassuring as he could make it, Max said, "Booth, she's alive."

"I know that, Max," came the immediate response.

"She'll heal," he added. "There's no immediate sign of brain damage now that the swelling's gone down. I mean, yeah, her memories are a little fuzzy, but I'm sure that's no big deal."

"I know that, Max," he repeated again. This time, however, his voice was barely above a whisper.

Although he was pretty certain it wouldn't help to say it, Max didn't know what else to do besides pointing out the obvious as he nodded and added, "Booth, you're both young. When you're ready, you can both try again. It's just…this time―in this time and place―it just wasn't meant to be."

At his words, although Booth knew Max was trying to be helpful, he immediately had to quash an instinctual urge to take his fist and slam it into the older man's face. Instead, he took another breath as he said, "You know, Max…that's all well and good, and my head knows it's true. But, in my heart, Max―" he stopped as he pounded on his chest with his fist. "In here? It just doesn't necessarily compute. You have…you have no idea how much she wanted that baby."

Considering his words, Max eventually nodded as he said, "You might be surprised."

Almost as if he ignored the older man's words, Booth continued, "She's going to blame herself, you know, once she finds out that the procedure took. She's going to see the miscarriage as her failure…and because she always has to be so damn logical, she's going to blame herself twice over―once for putting herself in such a dangerous set of circumstances that allowed the situation that caused the miscarriage to happen and once because she's going to blame her body for not being strong enough to sustain the pregnancy and protect her child." He stopped, breathed again, and then looked up at Brennan's father as he said, "She's going to see it as her failure…all her fault, and I don't know what I can do to stop that from happening."

Nodding, Max said, "I know it may seem an impossibility…but we're two smart guys, Booth―at least, I like to think we are on most days. So, we're just going to have to make certain that she doesn't think that when you tell her, huh, kid?"

"That's a lot easier said than done, Max," Booth responded. He stopped and then added softly, "Besides, it's not like she's going to listen to me…because, if there's anyone who's at fault here, it's me. This is all_ my _fault, not hers―never hers."

Somehow knowing that the FBI agent would perhaps respond better to rigidity than sympathy, Max immediately reached out, balled a fist, and lightly punched Booth in the shoulder.

The movement caught Booth off-guard enough that his head shot up and he scowled as he said, "What in the hell was that for?"

Wagging his finger at Booth, Max said, "Now, cut that shit out, Booth."

Immediately knowing about what Max was talking, Booth shook his head as he sat back against the floor and said in a deflated tone of voice, "I can't."

"Why not?" came the quick retort.

"Because," Booth said in a defeated tone of voice. "You know it's true."

"No, it's not," Max grunted. "It's not. And, you know it. It's not anyone's fault, Booth―not yours, not hers, no one's. It just happened. It was a horrible, terrible, atrocious accident, Booth. That's all."

"Because it just wasn't meant to be?" Booth asked the older man in what was to be a slight mocking of Max's earlier words. "Come on, Max. I don't want to hear that."

However, some of the fight fell out of Brennan's father, causing Booth to feel a bit off kilter when he wasn't met with the angry response he'd anticipated.

Slowly, shaking his head, Max said in a very regretful tone, "Even still, kid…as much as it hurts, sometimes that's just how it is…sometimes…sometimes things just aren't meant to be."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

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><p><span>Author's Note<span> - continued -Well, there we have it. I know I've gotten a few questions in reviews, and I'll simply say that by the time the story is over, I promise, all questions will be answered, you just need to be patient. I can say a couple of things though, that perhaps will encourage people to be patient with me as they keep reading. First, I love Freytag's dramatic structure and the elements of a good story. For those of you who aren't familiar with my writing, I never _ever _include something in my story that isn't there for a very good reason (isn't foreshadowing neat?) and there is a well outlined plot and structure to this narrative. Second, I like to think that while my writing may be described as many things, it's never been thought of as cliché. So, as I said…if you can stick things out, I think you'll like where we're headed. Coming up next: since when did Brennan develop a personal interest in religion? And, perhaps even more importantly, a chat with Booth about what she actually remembers…is it from her dream, reality, or a mixture of the two, and how does that affect the pair? Want to know? Then, please do that wonderful thing that some of you fantabulous people do and click the bright, shiny blue button below. Many thanks in advance!~


	5. Ch4:Color Her Confused

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan _was_ inseminated as planned.

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><p><span>Chapter 4 – Color Her Confused<span>

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><p>Several days later, Booth found himself in a very familiar place and position―sitting in a fairly uncomfortable chair next to Brennan's hospital bed.<p>

However, things had changed significantly since Brennan had first opened her eyes. Although she had a long way to go, the doctors had deemed her progress satisfactory enough that they took her off of the respirator that had kept her alive during her coma and removed her nasotrachael intubation line. Much like a baby, in those first days after Brennan regained consciousness, she couldn't do very much besides take in the environment around her for very limited chunks of time before she became exhausted and succumbed to the open arms of Morpheus. After the nurses removed her intubation line, Brennan's neurosurgeon hedged about both Booth's and Max's inquiries as to when she might have other lines removed, such as her feeding tube. 'Better to be safe than sorry' was the standard response. While such an answer was hardly reassuring―particularly given the goal to which both men were working, i.e., obtaining the doctors' assurances that Brennan's condition was continuing to improve to the point where they would move her out of ICU and to a standard private room―it wasn't as if either one had much recourse when they didn't get the answer they really wanted. So, all they could continue to do was watch and wait. And, so, although he knew she wasn't making progress as quickly as he knew she would've liked, Booth was of the opinion that things were _most __definitely_ better than they'd been only a week earlier.

As soon as he'd returned from his standard visit to the hospital chapel, Brennan had seemed to sense his presence as she always did. Although she had seemed to be dozing when Booth entered the room, when he came to sit in the chair that everyone openly acknowledged as his, Brennan's eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a weary smile.

Unable to help himself as he felt his own smile growing in response to hers, in a low and comforting tone, Booth said, "How ya doing, Bones?"

She swallowed once as she looked at him, her eyes bright with positive emotion. "Throat…still hurts."

"Want me to go get you some ice chips?" Booth asked, already on his feet even before he'd finished the sentence. "I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail―"

"No," the soft, monosyllabic answer stopped him in his tracks.

Looking over at her, he arched an eyebrow as he said, "You sure?"

She nodded simply.

"Okay, then," Booth said as he came back to sit in his chair. "So, I know it sucks with your throat…and doubly sucks since they won't let you have any popsicles yet―because those really are the most awesome things for a sore throat, especially the cherry ones―but, it'll get better soon, Bones. I know it will. Promise."

"I know," she replied in a voice that wasn't any louder than a soft whisper as she nodded at him.

"You know," Booth said, feeling a bit mischievous in that moment, but unable to help himself as he continued to see her get stronger with each passing day. "I think that part of the reason why your throat hurts as much as it does is because you didn't have a chance to run that Miss Smartypants mouth of yours for days and days." She watched him with a curious look that almost began to narrow into a familiar glare the more he continued to talk. Waving his hands in supplication, Booth continued with a bit of his trademark toothy grin. "Now, the bad news is that you haven't had a chance to smack people down left and right with that squintifying verbal brilliance of yours since you've been out of commission during the last couple of weeks, but the good news is that you've gotta be rested and rearing to go now, right? So, I'll let everyone know to look out, huh?"

He stared at her for a few seconds, the playfulness clear in his caring gaze. Sighing slightly, Brennan shook her head as she finally said, "You're teasing me."

Nodding at her, Booth said, "A little bit, yeah." He paused for a minute, his countenance becoming more serious as he then asked, "I know your throat hurts, Bones, but aside from that―are you in pain? Are you…are you still hurting?"

Brennan considered his question for a few seconds and then said, "A bit." She paused before she let her eyes fall to the side of her bed where her right hand clutched a long white cord that Booth knew ended in a button that, when pressed, would release a hit from the drip that Brennan had been hooked up to for several days for pain since she'd come out of her coma. "But, I have this."

"But, it's not the good stuff," Booth observed.

"No," she agreed. "Can't…because of my head."

Letting his eye dart over her body, it had only been since she'd woken up that Booth had allowed himself to take in the extent of the injuries that had not had anything to do with her head. Brennan's fall had given her a nice collection of broken bones, including several cracked ribs and a broken ankle. Overall, given the fact that she'd fallen four stories, it was amazing that her body hadn't suffered more than it had…at least, from an osteological perspective.

"Can I get you anything?" Booth asked again, although he knew what he could bring her―aside from the fresh bouquet of flowers that he brought her each morning when he arrived promptly just as she normally awoke at about 7:30―was fairly limited.

Giving him another smile, Brennan answered simply, "Just you."

Booth felt a flare of warmth in his chest at Brennan's words―something he'd come to feel several times since she'd had her tube removed and was able to speak once again. Although they'd yet to have time for a serious conversation, her warmth and openness to Booth gave him increasing hope―hope that they might be able to come out of the horrible accident stronger for it than they'd been going into it―than he'd ever possibly imagined. Allowing the smile he'd had on his face since he'd entered the room to grow into a large grin, he nodded and said, "Well, you're making my job easy here, Bones―that's done easily enough since you've already got me."

Leaning back into her pillow, she sighed with a pleased tone in her voice, "Good."

He watched her eyes begin to close a bit, and knew he should leave her to rest in peace, but he was unable to help himself as he said quietly, "You know, Bones…the docs seem pretty pleased with how you're doing."

Her eyes still closed, Brennan replied softly, "I know…'major miracle', right?" The words she used were clearly the ones that had been chanted at Max and Booth and all of Brennan's family and friends since her accident.

Reaching out, Booth let his palm gently come to rest on Brennan's arm. He began to rub it in a rhythmic gesture as he said, "You've always been that, Bones. Always"

Her eyes cracked open at his compliment, and she took a breath before weariness returned to her face. "I'm so tired of being tired," she told him.

Nodding, Booth responded, "The docs said they're going to probably remove your feeding tube…and maybe the catheter in the next couple of days. When you get back onto solid food, it should help you start to feel more awake and maybe not feel quite as groggy as you've been feeling since you woke up."

"Good," Brennan said. "Because…I want to get back to normal. I want to feel like me again…and soon. I want my brain back."

"Yeah," Booth agreed. "It _is _kinda an important thing to have there, huh, Bones?"

Tilting her head at him, she stared for a few seconds before she sighed and closed her eyes again. Taking a breath, her voice was a bit different as she said, "I'm sorry if I scared you, Booth. I didn't mean to."

Feeling a familiar tight clench in his chest, a sensation he knew was just the first sign of worry that he'd been anticipating as he worried about the guilt that Brennan might drown herself in once she learned the true extent of what had happened to her, Booth said firmly, "It's okay, Bones."

Opening her eyes, she asked in a vulnerable tone that almost cut Booth to the quick, "You forgive me?"

The honesty in his voice was clear as he nodded and said, "I already have."

She paused and considered his words before she responded, "If that's true, then why are you all the way over there?"

"Hmmm?" Booth asked, a bit confused by her response.

Nodding at him, Brennan said, "I thought…maybe you were angry with me and that's why you really haven't gotten close to me since I woke up, and they took me off the respirator."

A look of confusion furrowed Booth's brow as he said, "Ummm…."

Suddenly, Brennan's hand twisted, and she grabbed Booth's in a firm clasp as she said, "I've missed you. I mean, I know you were here, and have been here ever since I got here, but…it's different. It feels…it just feels like it's been so long since you touched me, _really _touched me―and even longer since you told me that you loved me."

Looking up at him, Brennan waited expectantly for Booth's response. Booth struggled to keep the confused waves of panic that he felt at her words from crossing his face, and prayed that if she had seen anything, that Brennan didn't think too much of it. Still holding his hand, it was―not surprisingly―Brennan who finally broke the silence that had started to grow between them.

"Do you love me, Booth?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Brennan yawned. "Mmmm…tired," she said with a smile.

Arching an eyebrow at her as he saw her eyes droop and her grasp on his hand loosen, Booth asked, "Bones?"

Although the pair knew that Brennan was close to dozing off again, she whispered insistently, "Tell me."

Swallowing once, Booth nodded―even though he knew Brennan couldn't see it since her eyes were still closed―and as he took a breath, he finally said, "I love you."

Unfortunately, in that moment, Brennan had finally drifted off to sleep, leaving Booth alone with his thoughts and feelings and confusion once again.

* * *

><p>A light tapping on the glass of the observation window of Brennan's hospital room drew Booth's attention. Since she'd drifted off to sleep, he'd been struggling with their conversation and the unexpected emotional turn it had taken. When he saw Max was the one who was gesturing for Booth to come out of the hospital room, Booth bolted up and quickly went outside. His eyes wide, Booth had come to a single explanation for why the conversation he'd shared with his partner had suddenly taken on such a seemingly intimate and emotional tint, and he knew he needed to tell someone as soon as possible.<p>

"Something's wrong," Booth said, his voice a measured whisper, as soon as he saw Max.

Immediately, Max's body tensed, and his eyes widened in fear. "What? Is it Tempe? Is she okay?"

Quickly realizing how his words could be misconstrued, Booth raised a hand and said, "Wait…yeah, Bones is fine. She's sleeping right now. But, no―things aren't okay."

"Booth, I gotta admit, kid, but you're kinda confusing me here. Why aren't things okay? What happened?" Max asked.

"Well, Bones," Booth began to explain. "Before she fell asleep…she asked me if I loved her."

Arching an eyebrow, Max waited as patiently as he could for Booth to continue. When panicked brown eyes stared back into expectant blue ones, and still no words were spoken, Max felt his patience snap a bit. Prompting Booth, he asked, "That's it?"

Slowly, Booth nodded his head. "Yeah."

Letting out a huge sigh, Max shook his head as he chuckled slightly. "Oh, kid…you scared me there for a minute."

Looking at Max, his confusion increased as he considered what was more than a slightly bewildering response from Brennan's father. At last, Booth asked with a shake of his head, "Wait…aren't you worried? She asked me to tell her that I loved her."

Chuckling, Max said, "No, Booth. I'm not concerned. At all."

"You're not worried?"

"Nope," Max answered.

"Why not?" Booth couldn't help himself as he questioned the older man.

"Because," Max told him simply. "It's been a long time in coming, but it looks like maybe Tempe only needed a good conk on the head to finally come to her senses."

The look of increasing confusion and bewilderment that shone on Booth's face only continued to get worse at Max's words, causing the smile on the face of Brennan's father to get even larger than it had been before.

* * *

><p>Later that afternoon, after Brennan woke up from one of her impromptu naps, she found her father waiting for her, sitting on the windowsill of her room as he often did. She wasn't sure when he and Booth had divided up the room into their respective domains, but it had been very clear as soon as she regained consciousness that the half of the room nearest the door―including the chair that sat closest to Brennan's bed―was Booth's domain while the half with the window and its makeshift windowsill seat was Max's.<p>

It was there he sat while Brennan looked over at him with a curious look as she contemplated her earlier conversation with Booth. "Dad?"

Looking over at her with a large smile, Max said, "Yeah, honey?"

"I have a question I want to ask you," she said, feeling more awake and more alert than she'd been when she talked with Booth earlier.

"Sure, baby," Max said with an indulgent nod. "What is it?"

Brennan unconsciously licked her lips once and then decided that if she was ever going to start finding out the answers to things, then now was as good a time as any to start. "Do you think Booth loves Katy more than he loves me?"

Max, clearly surprised by Brennan's question, stared at her for almost a minute. _Who in the hell is Katy? _Max wondered. Uncertain if he needed to have a long conversation with Booth and/or possibly break his legs, Max decided that the best way to handle the situation was to stall for time. _Don't lie, because she always knows when you lie, be as vague as possible when you answer her, but stall for time, talk to Booth, and then break his legs if Tempe's right and there's something I don't know about him_, Max mentally told himself.

Nodding at her, Max finally answered, "Ummmm, I'm not sure, honey. I really don't know enough about Booth's personal life to comment on something like that."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Max instantly felt like he'd said the wrong thing although he didn't really know the reason _why _he felt like that. He saw a strange look come across Brennan's face, that was only there for the briefest of seconds, and then it was gone so quickly that he wondered if maybe he'd imagined it.

Slowly, she nodded as she stared at her father and said, "Okay." Brennan then paused for a minute before she said, "You're right. I probably shouldn't have asked."

Smiling at her, Max said, "It's all right, Tempe. You know you can always ask me anything you want."

Forcing herself to smile, Brennan met her father's gaze with a feigned looked of happy contentment. However, as she considered his words, her brain slowly began to try to piece things together even though she was beginning to think she wasn't going to like what she found out once the puzzle had been solved. _Not at all_, Brennan thought to herself. _Definitely, not at all._

* * *

><p>More than two weeks after Brennan had woken up found her in a much different state than had been the case when she was on a respirator in an ICU room waiting to see if she would be, as the physicians and various medical personnel had termed her a 'major miracle' or a 'tragic loss'. Growing stronger each day, Brennan's doctors were eventually pleased enough with her prognosis that they signed off on a transfer out of ICU and to a private room while the family made longer term accommodations for Brennan's rehab.<p>

Now able to sit up in bed and stay awake for longer periods of time, Brennan was back on solid food―of a sort, although she continually found herself fighting Booth for the vanilla custard and chocolate fudge pudding packs that she'd managed to squirrel away from sympathetic nurses. She was also getting to the point where she was much more aware of what was going on around her than either Booth, her father, or any of her friends realized.

Thus, when a knock finally came on her door at a time when she knew both Booth and her father would be absent, Brennan sat up and gave permission for her visitor to enter.

An old woman with a wrinkled face and piercing blue eyes came into the room as soon as Brennan had called out her permission for the visitor to enter. Taking in the sight that greeted her of Brennan in her hospital bed, the older woman nodded with a smile as she said, "Ahhh, pardon me, Miss."

When she spoke, Brennan tilted her head as she thought she heard the very faint lilt of some type of accent that had greatly faded over time. Curiosity got the better of her even though Brennan _had _been expecting this visitor for quite some time. Nodding at the woman, she asked―even though from the woman's dress it was clear who she was―"Yes?"

Gesturing at the wooden door behind her with her thumb, the older woman said, "The nurse told me that you had requested the presence of a Eucharistic minister?"

Slowly, Brennan replied, "Yes, I did."

"Ahh," she said, feeling more confident now that she knew she was in the right place. "Well, that would be me, then."

"Excellent," Brennan replied, quite pleased that at least one of her solo requests had at last come to fruition. "Hello."

"Hello," the older woman responded. "My name's Bernadette."

"Temperance."

Smiling, the older woman said, "It seems as if we were both blessed with a set of parents who had a fondness for first names with an excessive amount of consonants and vowels."

Unable to help herself, Brennan smiled as she nodded. "Yes."

"What did you shorten it to?" the older woman asked as she came towards Brennan and sat down in one of the two plush chairs that was by her bed. "I'm the baby of the family, so I was lucky enough that I had an older brother that did it for me. Unless I'm in trouble, people usually call me Bernie."

Chuckling, Brennan said, "Tempe."

"Huh," Bernie said with a smile. "How about that?"

"What?" Brennan asked, curious at the old woman's response.

Tilting her head, Bernie said, "I once knew another nun named Temperance, and she was one of the most gloriously immoderate people that I've ever known…made her one of my best friends, too."

Brennan considered the nun's words as she finally said, "That's amusing in an ironic way, isn't it?"

Smiling again, Bernie nodded as she answered, "Some might say so, yes." Two pairs of blue eyes met and locked. At last, Bernie nodded and said, "So, what can I do for you, Tempe? Would you like to say a prayer or two before you receive?"

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "Receive?"

Nodding, Bernie said, "Yes."

Confused, Brennan asked, "Receive what?"

At her response, Bernie's eyes narrowed as she replied, "The Eucharist?"

Shaking her head again, a look of comprehension dawned on Brennan's face as she suddenly understood her faux pas. "Oh, no. That won't be necessary. I'm not Catholic."

As Bernie listened to Brennan's explanation, the look on her face transitioned from slightly suspicious to more than slightly confused. "But, the nurse told me that you requested the presence of a Eucharistic minister?"

Nodding again, Brennan confirmed, "Yes, that's right. I did."

Watching Brennan carefully for another moment, when the nun was satisfied that she wasn't being purposely yanked around, she sat back a bit into the upholstered chair in which she'd taken up residence and continued. "Okay, my dear. I have to admit it―and I've got to tell you that I don't do this a lot, by the way―but you can color me confused."

"Why?" Brennan responded almost instantly.

"Because," Bernie explained. "I'm not certain how I can help you if you're not Catholic, and you can't receive the Eucharist, and you don't want to pray since that's sorta what I do…you know, ministering to the Eucharist to the sick…since I'm a Eucharistic minister. Get it?"

Smiling, Brennan nodded. "Of course, I understand that."

"Then, why'd you ask for me to see you?" Bernie questioned her.

"Because," Brennan told her. "I was hoping that I might be able to speak with you in your purview as a spiritual adviser."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, it was clear that if she hadn't already gotten Bernie's full attention (and she did) she had it now. Arching an eyebrow, Bernie responded, "Okay, I admit it―my curiosity's piqued―which, again doesn't happen very often. So…in my guise as a spiritual adviser, what can I do for you?"

Brennan―even though she'd metaphorically kicked the question she'd desperately wanted to ask around in her head for more than a few days―found herself licking her lips now that the time to ask it was finally upon her. _It's now or never, Brennan_, she thought. _So ask it. Ask your question_.

Taking another breath, Brennan looked over at the nun and said, "I have a question that I'm hoping you might be able to answer for me."

"Sure," Bernie nodded. "Shoot."

"Shoot what?" Brennan asked, her own eyebrow now arched at Bernie's response.

Again, realizing she wasn't being teased or put on, Bernie laughed a bit as she said, "Oh, you're quite literal, aren't you?"

"I may've been told that once or twice before in the past, yes," Brennan nodded.

"Just once or twice?" Bernie asked with a knowing look in her eyes.

Brennan merely raised her own eyebrow again in response.

Chuckling once more, Bernie said, "Okay. Go ahead and ask you question, dear."

Swallowing once, Brennan forced herself to take a breath before she focused her gaze on the older woman when she spoke. "My question is this―what do you believe happens when we die?"

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - To all the kind folks who've been great fan fic supporters by dropping me a review or a PM, I salute you. The feedback is most appreciated…and as you can see, it works, doesn't it? ::points to recently posted chapter:: So, a lot was going on in this chapter. Feel free to share thoughts/guesses/speculation. Every so often, you never know when I might let you know if you're right or not. I don't do it often, but sometimes, I do―I swear! Coming up next―a bit more time passes, Brennan goes home, Booth struggles with what he's had to tell her, Brennan's still keeping things close to the vest, and…wait…what's that? Brennan goes to a church for a reason not related to a murder? What's up with that? If you want to know, you know what to do!


	6. Ch5:The First Two Books Are the Best

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan *was* inseminated as planned.

Author's Note - The reason for the delay in the posting of this chapter is―for those who may have missed it and/or for those to whom it appeals—a bit of emotive character deconstruction with a side of epic/major hotness that I've been working on with the incomparable _dharmamonkey_. We've posted a new 'missing scene' to season 4's "Fire in the Ice" which fills in the blank as to what happened the night Brennan took Booth to the hospital when he broke his hand. It's posted under dharmamonkey's profile as Scenario #4 ("Pulling the Goalie") of "A Very Bad Idea" and is now complete. We've been told by some it's rather hot…and so, if that's your speed, please do check it out. Thus ends my shameless plug for other stories…now, when we last left Brennan—

* * *

><p>Chapter 5 – The First Two Books Are the Best<p>

* * *

><p>The morning air was a bit cool against her skin since the sun was still in the process of rising. It was early, and as she drew a deep breath, Brennan felt her nose tickle a bit as she smelled the dew in the air. As she took a deep breath, she felt a calm descend over her that both invigorated and strengthened her. Truthfully, the sensation was one of the reasons she'd come to look forward to these early morning visits. Her visitor had situated her wheelchair under the branches of a cherry tree that had just begun to blossom. She closed her eyes, took another breath, and then smiled as she opened her eyes and looked over to where her visitor sat on a wrought iron bench a few feet away.<p>

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Bernadette asked her in a quietly appreciative voice.

Nodding, Brennan agreed, "Yes. It's very peaceful―it's one of the reasons why I've come to enjoy our morning excursions."

"And, here I was thinking that it was just my sparkling personality that you enjoyed so much," Bernadette laughed.

Tilting her head, Brennan responded, "You know how much I've come to enjoy the time we spend together each day, Sister Bernie. I mean, your visits are practically the first that I do to begin my day. So, in a way, they set the tone for the rest of what's to follow afterwards. That prominence should tell you something about how I value the place of your visits in my daily routine, doesn't it?"

Bernie thought about what Brennan had said for a few seconds before she arched an eyebrow and said, "Ya know, Tempe, you could've just said that you like spending time with me."

"But, I believe that's just what I said," Brennan told her as she made a face. "Wasn't it?"

Seeing the look of mild confusion brush across her face, Bernadette shook her head slightly as she said, "You know, we've been doing this every morning for six weeks straight―ever since you were transferred from the hospital to the long-term care facility, and I still can't seem to wrap my mind around the fact that you are…well, like you are."

"And…how am I exactly?" Brennan asked as she blinked at the nun.

"I don't know, Tempe," Bernie laughed. "You're just so…you."

"That's a very simplistic, but irrefutably accurate statement," Brennan observed.

"Yes," Bernadette said with a nod. "It is, isn't it?" She stopped for a few seconds, and slowly her smile fell away as a more serious look came over her face. Nodding at the younger woman, the nun continued, "You know, Temperance, when you asked me to begin visiting you on a regular basis when you transferred from the hospital to the long-term care facility here, I was a bit hesitant at first. But, our conversations have continued to draw me back time and time again. You have a very keen mind―"

"Thank you," Brennan replied automatically.

"And, we've had several very interesting philosophical discussions because of your questions," Bernie told her.

"I agree," Brennan said with another tilt of her head.

"But, now," Bernadette continued. "Since you're getting ready to leave here, I hope you won't mind me asking you a question of my own."

Brennan considered her words for a few seconds before she nodded. "Of course not. What would you like to know?"

"Well," Bernadette said slowly. "Maybe it's best to start with the most obvious and most simple one―why keep talking to me about all this…stuff?" Her blue eyes sought out and found Brennan's as she tried to convey the thoughts she'd been bouncing around in her head since the afternoon she'd wandered into the forensic anthropologist's hospital room and taken on an impromptu role as a makeshift spiritual guru of sorts. "I mean, it took me a while to figure it out, but I met your partner, Seeley, in the hospital chapel several times while he was keeping vigil and waiting for you to wake up. I have to say, Temperance, that he seems like a very spiritual man. So, why not have some of these discussions that you've had with him instead of me?"

As she thought about what the nun had said, Brennan started with the most simple portion of Bernadette's statement first as she responded. "You're correct when you say that Booth is a very spiritual man. His faith and religious devotion are very strong and are core aspects of his personality and worldview."

"But―" Bernadette asked her. Brennan arched an eyebrow at the woman's monosyllabic response which resulted in the nun explaining further. "There's always a 'but' with these types of things, Temperance, so what is it?"

Inclining her head in a show of acquiescence, Brennan said, "But―" Her words trailed off as a look came across her face. She hid the look almost as quickly as it had crossed her face, but Bernadette saw it nonetheless. Brennan took a deep breath, which gave the nun enough time to gently prompt her.

"But?"

"But," Brennan said, her tone becoming a bit more firm as she looked over at the older woman. "I can't talk to him about _this_―both because I don't want to burden him any further than I already have because it's not as appropriate as I once thought it was for me to draw succor from him―and because I need to do this for myself…by myself."

"Do what?" Bernie asked curiously.

"Do you know that before I was permanently resuscitated, after I fell, there was a span of some minutes where I appeared to be clinically dead? Now, considering the fact that there weren't any diagnostical machines available at that time for the EMTs and doctors to use to confirm total death, and so their supposition may be, in fact, false...well, I've come to believe that during the eighteen minutes I was actually dead for other reasons," Brennan explained in a small voice...a detail that didn't escape Bernie's notice.

Arching an eyebrow, Bernie felt an attempt to lighten the mood just a bit so that Brennan didn't clam up wasn't out of order. Nodding at her, Bernadette commented, "So not completely dead?" Brennan stared at her blankly as the nun quipped, "Just mostly dead?"

The look of confusion grew on Brennan's face as she said, "Pardon me?"

Shaking her head with a sigh, Bernie said, "Nevermind…it was just a popular culture reference."

A knowing look came over Brennan's features as she said, "Ahhh…I see."

"So," Bernie said. "You think you died and came back?"

Brennan nodded slowly.

"So what?" Bernadette asked. "Near death experiences are nothing new."

"Perhaps not for some people," Brennan conceded. "But, it is for a person who was a self-professed atheist who believed that when I died that was it."

"Was?" the nun asked with an interested raise of her eyebrow. "As in past-tense, i.e., no longer?"

Brennan paused for a minute before she said slowly," I don't know how to answer that."

Pursing her lips, Bernadette thought about Brennan's response for a few seconds before she nodded and said, "Well, why not start with the answer to this question―what do you believe?"

"That's just it," Brennan responded instantly. "I don't know what I believe anymore." She paused for a deep breath before she continued. "You must understand, one of the fundamental truths―one of the most basic foundational characteristics of the scientific method is gathering information by observation."

"And, when you died," the nun said gently. "You believe you saw something that's contradictory to your prior belief system?"

Brennan stared at the older woman for a long moment, her eyes clearly reflecting how much she wanted to share a truly honest answer to the question which she'd been asked, but also conflict over how much to keep private. At last, Brennan blinked and finally admitted, "Observed, yes...yes, I do. I'm just not sure what to make of it all."

Knowing there was more to Brennan's vague statement that she'd let on, Bernie prodded in a quiet voice, "What did you see?"

"I…I-I'm―" Brennan's words trailed off for a few seconds before she gave a short sharp shake of her head. "I'm not ready to talk about that yet. But, suffice to say, what I observed during that period has perpetuated many questions for me that I've never thought about before in my life. And, I find myself quite...unsettled as I attempt to work through them and make sense of their significance."

"Which is why," the nun said with a dawning look of comprehension coming onto her face. "You've been having me help you load your Kindle with every type of religious text from the Vulgate to the Egyptian Book of the Dead?"

"Yes," Brennan finally confessed. "I've been trying to find some answers."

Bernadette looked at the younger woman, and felt her heartstrings tug slight as she finally began to comprehend the scope of some of the issues with which Brennan had been struggling over the weeks of their acquaintanceship. At last, she nodded at her and said, "Have you ever been asked if you were stranded on a desert island, and you could only take one book with you, what book would it be?"

In response, Brennan slowly shook her head.

"Well," the nun began to explain with a smile. "Yeah, as a nun, it's kinda goes with the habit, then, I guess."

"So, what's your normal answer then, since it seems like you've been asked to answer that particular question several times?" Brennan questioned her.

"Oh, it's exactly what you think it would be," Bernadette said with a light chuckle. "But, not for the reasons you think."

"The Bible?"

Bernadette nodded.

"But, since you say that you would make that selection not because of the reason I would think, thereby implying that it's not a choice you made for religious reasons, logic dictates I find some other explanation, correct?" Brennan asked.

"Bingo," came the simple response.

Nodding, Brennan looked away as she rapidly tried to discern what might offer an a realistic alternative answer to explaining the reason behind Bernadette's selection. At last, she offered, "Then, my guess would be that you would make that selection because of the excessive page count or length that most translations contain?"

Laughing a bit, Bernadette shook her head as she said, "No, it's not that…but that's a good guess." She paused for a few seconds before she responded, "Here...I'll give you a hint. The reason is more secular, but less practical than that one."

"Oh?"

"Mmmm hmmm," Bernadette nodded. "It's because that book has everything in it from a literary perspective. Especially, when you look at the first two books…they're just great. I mean, everyone knows the first five books of the Old Testament are so important from a theological standpoint for more than one religion. But, once the begetting starts at the end of Exodus, and you get to the list of dos and don'ts in Leviticus, Deuteronomy, and Numbers, it _does _get a bit…dry. But, Genesis and Exodus as a whole before the begetting starts? Well, they have everything―paradise, sex, clashes between genders, births, deaths, temptation, betrayal, good versus evil, love, hate, murder…memorable characters, unique plot lines, beautiful settings…it's all there. Everything in those first two books just makes such a good read…they're all great stories."

As Bernadette explained, Brennan tilted her head for a moment and thought about what the nun had just had said. At last, she said, "I must admit…I had not considered that perspective of the Bible before."

"I thought not," the nun told her. "But, the important part, Temperance, is that the book ceases to be a literary text for me at some points because I have faith in its words. At that point, it takes on a whole other meaning for me beyond what it was…and what it was in that one context was substantial. So, I think it's safe to say, that the problem you have, in my humble opinion, is that as you search all the books for answers to your questions, the search may be a futile one since the type of answers you seem to be looking for can't be found without some type of faith…or at least a firm certainty in whatever it is that you believe. So, Temperance, the question remains…what do you believe in?"

As the older woman spoke, a familiar image of a warm and loving pair of brown eyes flashed in her mind as Brennan considered the nun's point. Pushing that image away, Brennan said, "I thought I knew the answer to that question, but after everything that's happened, I just don't know anymore. I just don't know."

* * *

><p>Although it had taken some getting used to, when it became clear that Brennan would recover―that all she really needed was time to rest and recuperate―Booth had reluctantly gone back to work. He'd gotten back into a habit of working cases without her during her rehabilitation. Thus, it was on the same morning that Brennan was having her conversation with Sister Bernadette that Booth found himself in his office awaiting a call from Cam about a possible COD from a victim that had been found decomposing in a vacant house that straddled the MarylandVirginia border. Sitting at his desk, Booth found himself mechanically pounding away on his keyboard, typing a response to an unrelated email that had distracted him from finishing the ad naseum paperwork that went with such cases. Thus, he looked busier than he actually was when a quick knock at his door drew his attention away from the computer screen.

"Yeah?"

"Uhhh…Agent Booth?" came the response. "You have a minute?"

Recognizing the voice, Booth looked up and nodded at him. "Sure." He waved at him, giving his visitor permission to enter the office. Shifting from the computer's keyboard, he reached down and picked up a black gel ink pen and tapped it against the file as he waited for his visitor to come forward.

As Dr. Lance Sweets cautiously entered Booth's abode, he asked, "So, how are you doing, Agent Booth?"

"I'm fine, Sweets," Booth said with another firm nod. "What can I do for your royal shrinkness?"

"It's just been a while since I've seen you," Sweets said as he took a step closer to Booth's desk. "You know, in a professional sense that is."

Glancing back down at the piece of paper he'd been scribbling on earlier that morning, Booth continued to speak. "I've been kinda busy, Sweets."

"Yeah," he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he broached what he knew was going to be a delicate subject. "I noticed that you've been, ahh, kinda…unavailable a lot in the past few weeks."

Looking up at him, Booth's writing slowed as he replied, "I've been doing the best I can, Sweets, but maybe you didn't hear―my partner was injured in the field and was in a coma for nine days."

His voice gentled a bit as Sweets said, "I've heard, Agent Booth…_everyone's_ heard about what happened to Dr. Brennan. We've all been concerned about her."

Booth paused for a few seconds as he looked at the younger man. Finally, he nodded slowly and said, "Well, she's doing better, thanks."

"And," Sweets prodded gently. "That's why you're back in the office now?"

His brow furrowed lightly as Booth responded, "Yes…."

Sweets looked at him expectantly. When Booth didn't say anything, Sweets paused for a few seconds before he asked, "And, that's it?"

Shaking his head, Booth said, "Yeah, Sweets. That's it." Shaking his head slightly, he then added, "What else would there be?"

"I don't know, Agent Booth," Sweets told him. "It's just that…ever since Dr. Brennan's accident happened, news has been kinda sparse…and sporadic."

Arching an eyebrow, Booth replied, "Oh?" He swallowed a bit of a smile as he said, "Has it?"

"Yes," Sweets nodded. "You know, Daisy and I went to try to visit her, but were told that her list of approved visitors were limited to family only."

"Yeah, well," Booth explained. "She's needed peace and quiet to heal, Sweets. That's why there hasn't been a revolving door of squints in and out of her sickroom. She's needed time―"

"And, she's had that, Agent Booth," Sweet pointed out. "Her accident was almost two months ago."

Sighing, Booth said, "Sweets, why do I feel like we're playing a game of ring-around-the-shrinky-bush because you don't want to tell me why you're really here?"

Sweets paled a bit as he knew he'd been found out, but he continued anyway knowing that he probably wouldn't have another chance to push his point if he didn't do it while he had the current opportunity which he did. "Well," Sweets began a bit timidly. "It's just that you've been back on a full workload for a couple of weeks now―"

"Actually," Booth corrected him. "It's almost been a month, Sweets."

Raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture, Sweets said quickly, "My apologies."

Booth tilted his head in response to Sweets' words to denote his unspoken acceptance of the apology.

"So, you've been working a normal caseload for almost a month―" Sweets said, his words trailing off as he looked at Booth, hoping that he might take the hint and say something. However, when Booth remained quiet, Sweets sighed continued speaking. "And―"

"And, Sweets?" Booth said, a bit of impatience creeping into his voice.

"And," Sweets sighed, knowing that the FBI agent wasn't going to make the task easy for him. "And," he repeated. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but your partner was injured in the line of duty, Agent Booth."

"Oh, God," Booth sighed in clear exasperation as he dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. "Don't tell me that you're going to use this to drag me back into therapy?"

"I would be lying if I said I didn't have some concerns, Agent Booth," Sweets admitted.

"I'm fine, Sweets," Booth insisted.

Not happy with his reassurances, Sweets continued. "You were there when Dr. Brennan had her accident, Agent Booth," he said in as gentle and calm tone as possible. "You saw her fall."

Booth's face hardened as his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. "Yes, I did, Sweets. Now, you wanna tell me something I don't know?"

"All I'm saying is that it's not uncommon for a person in a situation such as the one in which you've found yourself to try to downplay the trauma that they've personally suffered," Sweets said.

Growling a bit, Booth responded, "I said I was fine, Sweets."

Not realizing that he was quickly running out of Booth's limited patience, Sweets continued, "I mean, I can't imagine you don't feel some level of guilt over what happened to Dr. Brennan―"

His head snapping up at Sweets' words, Booth snapped, "Sweets!"

Refusing to back down, Sweets held his ground as he responded, "Yes?"

"I said I was fine," Booth growled. "Now, if you want to use this situation as an excuse to get me to spend more time with you, fine, I guess―"

"And, Dr. Brennan, as well―" Sweets said, cutting off the FBI agent.

Somewhat taken aback by Sweets' interruption, Booth asked, "What?"

"I assume," Sweets explained. "That, at some point in the not so distant future, Dr. Brennan will want to return to field work."

Booth considered the psychologist's words before he gruffly admitted with a small shrug, "Maybe."

"Well," Sweets said in a slow voice. "When she does, she'll need to be cleared."

"Why?" Booth said as he tilted his head at Sweets. "She's not an agent―"

"Agent Booth," Sweets began. "She was hurt while in the field on a call related to one of the Bureau's active investigations. We both know what the Bureau's procedures say on this matter. She'll need to be vetted before she can work new cases with you."

Shaking his head, Booth sighed, "Awww, Sweets. Come on―"

Knowing he had a slight advantage in Booth's wanting to protect his partner, Sweets pressed, "Now, if you could arrange it so that I could speak with her sooner rather than later, that would let us get a proverbial jump on the process."

His eyes narrowed again as he suddenly realized what Sweets was after, and Booth vehemently shook his head. "No."

"Oh, come on, Agent Booth," Sweets protested. "No? But, why not?"

"I told you, Sweets," Booth said as he pointed his index finger as the psychologist, a bit of anger coming into his voice as he defended Brennan and his protective instinct manifested itself in full force. "She needs time to heal, and I'm not going to have you picking around in her head and messing things up while she's still getting well and trying to see if she's go things straight in her head or not."

"But―" Sweets began weakly.

"I said no, Sweets," Booth told him sharply. He lifted his brown eyes to meet the younger man's intimidated gaze. "Stay away from her. Seriously―or you're going to see how little control I can have on that deep reservoir of rage of mine when I really want to…understood?"

He held his gaze for several long second pregnant with intent and passionate meaning. _Don't push me on this one, Sweets_, Booth thought as he stared at the psychologist. _After the last couple of months I've had, it's not a good idea, so just don't._

At last, Sweets swallowed once as he said, "Yeah―"

"Good," Booth said tersely.

"At least…for now," Sweets couldn't help but add lamely. _Because, this isn't over, Agent Booth…not by a long shot. You both are going to need help to heal, and both as your friend and as a psychologist for the Bureau, I'm going to do whatever I have to do to make sure that you get that help…no matter how much you threaten me._

Almost as if he could hear his thoughts, Booth arched an eyebrow as he pointed towards the door and said, "We're done here, now, Sweets."

Taking a cue, Sweets slowly nodded. Turning around, as he walked out of the office, Sweets almost believed that he could actually feel the waves of anger and aggressive hostility radiating off of Booth. And, if he'd turned around again and looked at the angry stare that Booth was shooting at him as he walked away, Sweets probably would've seen enough evidence to know that if looks could kill, he would've been a dead man.

* * *

><p>A few hours after Bernadette had left Brennan to her final day in the long-term care facility, another expected visitor brightened Brennan's doorway.<p>

"How you doing, Dr. B?" Dr. Jack Hodgins said with a bright smile.

"I'm eager to return home," Brennan answered honestly.

Taking a step forward, Hodgins said with an understanding nod, "I just bet you are. You've been gone for a long time, huh?"

"Yes," Brennan agreed. "But, it's been bearable since you were able to stop at my apartment and procure my laptop for me. I don't think I can explain how much I appreciate that kind gesture, Dr. Hodgins. I've been able to keep myself occupied reading several old files that I keep on the laptop that I don't have saved anywhere else…so, it meant a lot to me that you were able to do this for me and be so discrete about it."

"Sure, Dr. B," Hodgins nodded again. "It was no problem."

"Still," Brennan said as she smiled at him. "It was a kindness that I won't forget…either you bringing me the laptop…or you being so kind as to procure those copies for me." She nodded at a large goldenrod envelope Hodgins was holding.

"Sure," he repeated, as he extended the thick envelope towards her. "I think this is everything you wanted. It's photocopies…but the information is legible."

"As long as they're readable, that's all that matters," Brennan said as she reached out and took what Hodgins proffered her. "I have many questions," Brennan said as she ran her fingers over the outside of the envelope. "And, now, maybe…maybe I can finally start to get some answers."

"Whatever you need," Hodgins said with a nod. "You know…all you have to do is ask."

Slowly, Brennan nodded. "I know…and thank you…thank you very much, Dr. Hodgins. This means more to me than I can possibly say."

_Because, now…now I find out what's real and what's not…for certain_, Brennan thought grimly. _Because, I have to know…once and for all…I have to know. And, that knowing starts here._

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note - continued -<span>So, there we have it. This one was a bit of a transitional chapter. But, as ever, if you take a closer look, lots of good stuff is going on there. I thought Brennan might get to her church visit, but it didn't quite fit here, so that's still in the pipeline. Coming up next, we start to get to some of the nitty gritty in the story. What answers, if any, has Brennan found? And, of course, once she's home, she wants to return to the lab, she's still looking for answers, and Booth isn't quite certain what's going on because she seems to be hiding things from him. So, what's going on exactly? Well, as ever, if any of that sounds like anything anyone wants to hear more about, you know what to do. ::stares prettily at the 'review' button below.::


	7. Ch6:Since When Is Brennan Religious?

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan *was* inseminated as planned.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6 – Since When Is Brennan Religious?<span>

* * *

><p>Brennan sat in a pew at the back of the church.<p>

She was one of the few people who sat occupied in the old chapel of Holy Trinity Catholic Church. When she'd asked the cab driver to take her to the closest church, and he'd asked which one, an image of Sister Bernie had popped into Brennan's mind, and she'd specified Roman Catholic. Somewhat coincidentally, the place where the cabbie eventually deposited Brennan at the corner of N Street NW between N 35th and N 36th Streets happened to be the oldest Roman Catholic Church that had maintained continuous operation within Washington D.C. While many people visited the church to view it for it's historical significance, either because of the fact that it had served as a Union hospital after the Second Battle of Bull Run in 1862, or was the frequent place of worship for President John F. Kennedy and his family between January 1961 and November 1963, those facts meant very little to the forensic anthropologist.

No, instead, she watched in quiet curiosity as a gathering of perhaps fifteen or twenty people completed saying the Rosary merely because she'd been considering the last conversation she'd had with Sister Bernadette about what she believed and why she still wasn't finding the answers she'd been so desperately searching for during the past few weeks. As those small group of mostly older men and women began what was a prayer to mark their continuation of a Novena, the sounds of their joined voices soothed her ears as she considered the words they spoke in a joint statement of faith.

_O Mother of Perpetual Succour, behold me, a miserable sinner at thy feet. I have recourse to thee and put my trust in thee._

Brennan's eyes darted up towards the dark wooden beams of the chapel, her eyes taking in the polish of the wood that had existed in its current form for well over two centuries.

_O Mother of Mercy, have pity upon me, I hear thee called by all, the refuge and the hope of sinners, be then my refuge and my hope. Succour me for the love of Jesus Christ; stretch forth thy hand to me, a poor sinner, who recommend and dedicate myself to thee, as thy perpetual servant._

As her eyes traveled around the chapel, she was surprised by how many windows the building contained, particularly because of the fact that the simple window panes were absent of any stained glass adornments that she thought was the norm for most religious buildings of the Catholic denomination. The natural sunlight bounced off of the white walls, seemingly giving the chapel an otherworldly glow that made Brennan just a bit nauseous when she thought of it in _those _particular terms.

_It's actually quite simple_, Brennan thought as she breathed deeply of the incense that was burning from somewhere near the altar. _In a way, it's very peaceful. I can see why Booth and Bernie can take comfort from this type of setting when they're not grappling with the larger ideological underpinnings behind what's said and done between these walls. _

_I bless and thank God, for, having in his Mercy given me this confidence in Thee, the pledge, as I believe, of my eternal salvation. Alas, too often in past times have I miserably fallen, because I had not recourse to thee, I know that with thy help I shall conquer. I know that thou will help me, if I recommend myself to thee, but I fear lest in the occasion of falling, I should cease to call upon thee, and, so should loose my soul._

As Brennan's conscious mind seized upon the phrase 'occasion of falling', she felt an unpleasant clenching of something somewhere half-way between her heart and her throat. Glancing at the white brickwork behind the simple alter, suddenly Brennan felt a stab of panic as she saw a swirl of images in her mind that represented the reality of the past six weeks for her―daily visits from her father and brother, Angela and Hodgins...even Cam had come a few times. But, through it all, each and every day, Booth was there.

_And, he was there when I fell, too, _Brennan thought. _And…he's the reason I still don't know what's real and what wasn't…oh, God._

_This then is the grace I seek from thee, and I beg of thee, as far as I know how and can, to obtain it for me, namely, in the assaults of hell, always to have recourse to thee and to say to thee; O Mary, help me, Mother of Perpetual Succor, suffer me not to lose my God. Amen._

Quickly, Brennan stood up and made her way out of the chapel as quietly, but as fast as her feet could carry her, suddenly feeling as if coming to the church had been a rather bad idea after all.

* * *

><p>Booth had taken a bit of extra time for his lunch break, wanting to check on Brennan since she'd returned to her apartment three days earlier. He'd been surprised at how well she'd responded to his constant hovering, not complaining in the slightest, but always rewarding him with a word of thanks and a polite smile―even if he knew the smile she smiled at him now wasn't the same one that she'd smiled at him in the first days after she'd woken up from her coma.<p>

Although he'd had absolutely no evidence to back up his assertion, Booth couldn't help but feel as if―on some level, at least―Brennan was pulling away from him. It wasn't in anything she said or did, but it was just a feeling he couldn't help but shake...and it was growing stronger with each day that passed. He hoped that once she returned to her apartment, a place of comfort and an environment in which she could exert a certain amount of control, that things might start to return to normal.

_Because I need her to be normal_, Booth thought. _There's still so much we need to talk about, to discuss…but only when she's strong enough_―_when she's had enough time and space to heal to be able to handle it._

It was with a thought that he'd help to contribute to Brennan's return to normalcy, that he'd stopped on his way to her apartment and procured a box of Thai takeout. Carrying a number of containers with excellent Thai goodness with everything from tofu summer rolls to brown coconut rice to thai corn fritters, and her favorite―vegetarian phad ba mee…extra spicy, Booth's stomach was growling by the time he reached her doorstep…and found Brennan juggling her keys to enter the apartment at the exact same time.

Whether it was the delicious smell of the Thai food that wafted in a trail of steamy goodness down the hallway, or the heavy footfall of Booth's steps, Brennan's attention was drawn as she looked up from where she was trying to unlock her front door.

"Booth―" she said, a bit surprised as she took in the sight of him carrying the large box of food.

"Heya, Bones," Booth nodded, a jovial smile on his lips. "What's going on?"

"Ummm," Brennan said as she finally turned the key and popped open the door. "I just…went for a walk."

If it had been anyone else who'd been looking at her, it was highly doubtful that they would've noticed the small blip of hesitation that had crossed Brennan's face before she answered. Swallowing a frown, Booth pushed away another pinprick of worry that he merely added to the growing pile of non-evidence he was collecting about why he felt his partner was pulling away from him.

_Something __is__ wrong_, Booth thought. _I don't know what it is…but I know it. I just know it. What is it, Bones? And, more importantly―why aren't you telling me?_

Taking a breath, Booth nodded at her. "You okay, Bones?"

A bright smile came on her face as she nodded at him in response. "Indeed―and hungry." She then pointed at the box he carried as she added, "I hope you aren't carrying that around just to torment me. Perhaps you have enough to share?"

"Uhh, yeah," Booth nodded as he shifted the box in his hands. "I was kinda hoping we might be able to share my lunch break."

At his words, another flash of _something _came and went in Brennan's blue eyes even more quickly than the first frown that had disappeared in a nanosecond.

"Great," Brennan said. "I'm starving. How long can you stay for?"

Holding the door open, Brennan waited until Booth had entered the apartment before she shut and locked the deadbolt behind them.

"Ummm," Booth said as he walked into the kitchen and set the box on the counter. "I don't know? Why?"

"It's just nice that you took time to get the food and bring it all the way over here when I know that you've been quite busy with resuming an active caseload," Brennan said as she walked towards one of the cabinets, opened the door, and took down a couple of plates. Moving towards the dining room table, she began to arrange the dishes. Booth watched her for a minute as she got two pairs of well-worn black chopsticks out of one of the cabinet drawers along with several serving forks and spoons. Taking the items to the table, she continued to set the table as Booth arched an eyebrow at her.

When she'd finished, she looked up at him with a questioning look of her own. "What?"

"A bit formal for take out, don't ya think?" Booth chuckled.

"But, we always eat at the table," Brennan said.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, another minute look crossed her face. Again, it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

"Since when?" Booth asked. "We've never been more fancy-dancy then the couch, wooden throw away chopsticks, and eating straight out of the cartons, right?"

"Right," Brennan said with a firm nod. "Of course, I just―that is," Brennan said, quickly trying to cover her obvious faux pas. "I just thought it might be nice to sit down and have a real lunch since you went to all this effort." She paused for a few seconds before she added softly, "That is, if you want?"

Booth held her tense blue gaze with his own brown eyes for a minute before he gave her another easy smile, moved to grab the takeout box from the counter, and brought it to the table as he said, "Sure thing, Bones―sure. Sounds like a great idea." This time when a smile of gratitude shown on Brennan's face, for once, Booth knew it was genuine. Feeling a small shred of hope at the encouraging sign, he nodded at her and said with a happy jaunt in his voice, "Now, I hope you're hungry, because I've got all kinds of good stuff here."

"As long as you know the extra sweet chili dipping sauce for the summer rolls I hope you got is all mine," Brennan said as she moved to stand next to him and began to lift cartons out of the box. "I'm not sharing."

Reaching into the box, Booth produced two extra plastic containers of the tell-tale red sauce with a grin. "You never do, Bones―you never do."

* * *

><p>Sister Bernadette Magdalena sat on a well-worn dark brown corduroy couch. She kicked off her sensible black pumps and began to rub her feet as a rather disgusted guffaw sounded behind her.<p>

"What?" she snarked is annoyingly tired voice.

"Must you do that?" came the smooth reply.

"My feet hurt, Donny," she said with a sigh. "You know that."

"Yes," a tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair said as he came from the kitchen towards the couch carrying two dainty blue and white bone china tea cups that were filled to the brim with a steamlingly pungent fragrant blend. "It's been the same every time you overtax yourself, drag yourself up to my flat, and collapse knackered on my couch." He stopped and tilted his head at her as he proffered one of the teacups to her. "I keep hoping, even after all these years, you'll learn your lesson and stop buggering about, love."

"I've had a pretty rough few weeks, Donny," Bernadette said. "I'm just about going crackers, here."

"Why?" came the response as he collapsed down on the couch at the opposite end from where she sat. Inhaling the steaming tea, he smiled as he said, "Of course, as long as you keep bringing me this most excellent blend of Earl Grey when you deign to grace me with your loving presence, little sister, I suppose I can't begrudge you the comfort of my couch."

Sighing slightly, she then took a sip of the tea as she smiled and nodded, "It _is _a particularly good blend, isn't it?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Very. Excellent. Quite excellent." He paused and then said, "Now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, why don't you tell me why you're really here, Bernie? What can big brother do for you?"

"I need your help, Donny," she sighed as she sat up on the couch and pulled her feet underneath her.

"Why?" he said with a critical eye. "Trouble at the nunnery again? Because, if it is, I can't really agree to help Sister Marta and Sister Anne get over their debate about who was really the winner out of the Fourth Lateran Council because they're a bit tipsy on Historical Drinking Bingo night without some of my Anglican snark showing through."

Waving her hand, Bernie said, "No, no―it's not that…as a matter a fact, your Protestant Catholic-light sensibilities may actually help give me some perspective on how to handle this. You see, I have a friend who's having a crisis of faith…and I'm not certain what to do next."

* * *

><p>After what had been an excruciatingly emotional day, Brennan lay curled up in the middle of her bed on top of the comforter in the fetal position. Pieces of paper lay scattered around her. The faded gray tint to the photocopies stared back at her in the low light of the single incandescent lamp that shone from Brennan's nightstand. Her laptop was situated in the middle of the bed, the power cord snaking down the middle of the queen mattress like a black racer garden snake that had decided it was quite content with its current position. The glow of the laptop screen reflected back at her while its fan hummed quietly in the room that was interrupted by only one sound. Like the papers, the laptop screen blinked back at Brennan, in what she now viewed as a depressingly mocking way. At least, the papers and information on the laptop screen would've been staring back at her had Brennan been looking at them. Instead, her eyes were squeezed shut as her body shook with intermittent quiet sobs...the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.<p>

She didn't know how long she'd lain like that, alternately staring at the blinking cursor on her laptop screen that was opened to an MS Word document before she let her red-rimmed and puffy eyes drop to a random piece of paper on the bed that all were stamped with the same letterhead―Georgetown University Hospital―before she became overwhelmed all over again. Once the tears began again, she chose the same spot on the far wall of her bedroom and tried to keep her eyes on the knockdown texturing as her vision went in and out of focus through the tears.

She stayed curled as she was, in the middle of bed, for an indeterminate amount of time as she suffered from some of the early consequences of the knowing that had started when Hodgins had brought her a copy of her medical records and chart from the hospital like she requested.

Much of what had been contained in the medical chart sounded ominous if one didn't know the metaphorical end of the story, i.e., that she'd come down on the side of 'major miracle' and not 'major tragedy' because she'd beaten the odds and woke up. _Those_ details were a big deal and didn't really surprise her.

But, one thing _had _shocked her as she read the notes of a name she'd instantly recognized―her OB/GYN. As she'd began to read the notes, phrases jumped out at her and each one was like she'd been stabbed in the thoracic cavity with a sharp cutting implement:

'patient gestation was at approximately 35 days'

'bleeding lasted from first day of admission to day eight'

'natural miscarriage'

'should monitor fever for signs of uterine infection'

'hCG serum level went from 47miU/mL to 15miU/mL'

'dilation and curettage determined to be unnecessary'

'patient seems to be experiencing intense cramping'

'recommend scheduling a follow up appointment upon discharge to discuss options regarding future pregnancies since past discussions with patient have indicated a dedication to achieving and delivering a viable pregnancy as soon as possible'

"God, Booth―" Brennan whispered as she fought off another wave of sobs that was threatening to break over her. She resisted the urge to let her fingers caress her flat stomach. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Why didn't _you _tell me?"

She'd asked herself that question several times since she'd first read the information, and even three hours later, she still kept asking herself the question although a small portion of her rational brain knew that no answer would be forthcoming.

After a time, Brennan sat up in bed and glanced at the clock. Feeling emotionally and physically spent, her brain attempted to reassert control over her situation. Making a firm vow that she was done crying for the evening, Brennan allowed the back of her hand to brush away the wet trails that had been seemingly etched in raw and chafed skin on her cheeks. Sniffling once, she was debating what to do next when her eyes darted to the laptop screen and once again read a very familiar set of words that she could now repeat verbatim. Nevertheless, this time Brennan couldn't help herself as she reached for the laptop screen and let her fingers lightly trace the words on the screen as she silent mouthed what was written there:

'_Field Notes of Dr. Temperance Brennan, 8/13/2005. Returned from Guatemala UN Expedition via Aviateca Airlines flight #2275 into Dulles, arriving at 1:17 PM EST. Angela Montenegro was supposed to provide transportation to Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab. Detained by Homeland Security on Hold For Questioning Request from Federal Bureau Investigations by Special Agent Seeley Booth. Request for consultation on skeletal remains found at Arlington National Cemetery under suspicious circumstances. Agreed to participate when Agent Booth agreed to full participation on case. _

_Personal note-It's been a year since I've seen him, and I still find him to be a supremely arrogant and insufferable bully who still uses his badge and gun to intimidate people. I don't know why agreed to this. Hopefully, it will be a short consultation so I can get on with my life and never have to see him again.'_

As she read the final sentence, she felt a familiar pain clench in her stomach as she fought to hold on to another version of that particular encounter that she remembered as happening quite differently. Despite her earlier resolution not to cry again, the tears once again flooded her eyes, and she found herself doubling over in pain as she resumed her earlier fetal position on the bed, only finding peace when she eventually cried herself to sleep.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - So, there we have it―some of the answers everyone's been wanting are slowly starting to trickle in…but, like it was for Brennan, making sense of those answers…and deciding if one has the courage to find the rest of them is not an easy choice to make. I know this chapter was a bit sad―it was fairly intense to write. So, as ever, good…bad…indifferent, I'd appreciate knowing how things came across. Coming up next: a chapter that isn't quite as depressing/emotionally intense. Brennan returns to the lab, Daisy faces her ire as she copes with what's happened/happening to her, and Booth discusses Sweets point about what she needs to do to be vetted to returned to work. Want to see the next chapter all that much more quickly, then pretty please, ::stares at blue review button below::…you know what to do. :-)~


	8. Ch7:Going Back to the Real World

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan *was* inseminated as planned.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 7 – Going Back to the Real World<span>

* * *

><p>Brennan sat in her office, the blinds closed and her door shut. She was all alone as she placed her edge on the edge of her desk, grasping the hard but smooth edge of the silver metal frame that held the frosted glass panes in place.<p>

_So cold_, Brennan thought as she unclenched her fingers and allowed her fingertips to trace the straight line of the desk's outer frame. _Hard and cold and…impervious. _

She stopped and looked down at the edge of the familiar blue lab coat that she wore buttoned over her simple white button down shirt and dark black trousers. "This is who I am now," she whispered. "I…I-I…this is who I am, so I better get used to it."

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Brennan squeezed her eyes shut and then slowly stood up. _This is what you wanted, Brennan_, a voice echoed in her head. _You wanted to find out who you are in this time and place_, she thought. _Well, this is how to do it. It's the lab. It's home. It's the one place where I've always felt comfortable and at peace…and most like myself. If I want to get back to how things are supposed to be, then it begins here and now._

As she opened her eyes, the bright light of the fluorescent overhead bulbs in her office assaulted her irises. Blinking a few times, Brennan allowed her eyes to adjust before she allowed a very carefully crafted case of detached and rational professionalism fall over her. Reaching up, she pulled an elastic off of her wrist and pulled her hair into a pony tale. Nodding to herself, she licked her lips once before she took one last breath and walked towards her office door.

Pulling it open, she quickly walked towards the main platform, smoothing her lab coat as she walked in firm and measured steps. As she approached the very familiar steps, she automatically reached towards the breast of the lab coat pocket. Her deft fingers plucked at the identification card that was attached to its normal spot of prominence on her chest. Nodding at the security guard in acknowledgement, Brennan took the ID card and swiped it in the scanner. The normal tweet of it recognizing her credentials was comforting to her in its consistency. As she walked up the steps towards the examination table, several sets of eyes watched her with intent curiosity.

Cam was the first to modulate a wince when she heard a bubbly greeting break the air.

"Oh, Dr. Brennan!" Daisy Wick said with more than a touch of shrill excitement coming into her voice. "You're here. You're really here. How wonderful. How super exciting! How very super uber exciting!"

"Yes, Ms. Wick," Brennan said as she approached the slab and reached into her lab coat pocket and removed a pair of latex gloves. "Thank you for stating the obvious." Coming to stand next to Cam, Brennan looked down at the set of remains that were occupying the pair's attention. "Now, are these the remains from the construction site on the campus of the University of Maryland at College Park?"

Daisy opened her mouth to answer, but was immediately cut off as Cam jumped in and answered first.

"Booth is fairly certain, given the preliminary site evaluation, that this is probably Jennifer Rowe. She was the chief of staff for Assistant Secretary of the Interior and disappeared just after attending an alumni dinner at UMCP. Her car was found abandoned near the nature trails that many of the students who live in the on-campus dorms use for jogging paths. The theory was that she went to have a discussion with her ex-boyfriend, who's a doctoral student there, and they got into a fight and something happened where she ended up dead and the body got dumped. But, without a body, the circumstantial evidence was too spotty to do more than hold him for questioning. But, everyone was always fairly certain that she disappeared because of personal issues, not anything related to her job. However, since they couldn't confirm it…well―she technically _was _a federal official of prominence, so, just to be on the safe side, that's the reason why the campus police suggested to the other staties that they bounce the case to the feds, just to be on the safe side. That's how Booth ended up getting the call once they found the remains," Cam explained.

"Okay," Brennan nodded. Tilting her head to Daisy, Brennan then asked, "What has your preliminary examination of the remains revealed, Ms. Wick?"

As Brennan stared at her expectantly, Daisy's eyes brightened. She took a quick breath, her face relaxing into an excited smile as her mentor and idol continued to wait for an answer to her question.

"Ms. Wick?" Brennan said, a small frown marring her otherwise blank face. "Do you have an answer to my query or not?"

And, then, almost as if Brennan had pulled her string and Daisy was a Chatty-Kathy doll, she began to speak at such a high pitched squeal that it made everyone's ears hurt.

"Oh, Dr. Brennan!" she blurted out. "I do have a question for your answer." She stopped, frowned when she realized what she'd just said, and then corrected herself. "I mean, I do have an answer for your question, but first, I just have to say how excited I am to see you back to work. It's been so horrible not seeing you up and about since your accident. The lab just hasn't been the same without you. I mean, that's not to say that working with Dr. Saroyan and everyone else hasn't been a wonderful experience, but I have to admit that I much prefer it when I can be in close proximity to you because it's just such an honor to continue to be supervised by someone who's _so_ brilliant like you are, Dr. Brennan."

"Ms. Wick," Brennan said, a small growl coming into her voice. "I would advise―"

"You know," Daisy said, not heeding Brennan's obvious warning. "For a while, we thought, after the accident, that you might not wake up―let alone be able to recover to the point that you would be able to resume your duties unimpaired. Lance and I spent days after your recovery talking about what it would be like if you couldn't come back to the lab. But, I always had faith in you. I just knew that if someone could be exceptional and beat the odds, it would be you. I mean, you're Dr. Temperance Brennan. There's nothing you can't do. You can't fail. You never do. Of course, you would come out of something like this―a tragedy that might destroy lesser people―much stronger for it. It's almost like it was a good thing that the accident happened to you, because you've finally proven to everyone beyond any shadow of a doubt, how strong and outstanding and how exceptional you really are. You beat the odds, Dr. Brennan, and even though I couldn't tell you this earlier―much, much before now, because I wanted to, I did―but, I couldn't because they hospital staff said that it was family only when you were in the hospital, and then at the long-term care facility―and I know they must've meant that in a literal sense, since I know, metaphorically, of course, that if you'd known, you would've had Lance and me and all the other people from the lab on the list of approved visitors―but, it really is quite amazing in what you've done. It's almost as if nothing happened to you―"

"Shut up!" Brennan said, a bead of perspiration trickling off of her brow as she clenched her hands by her sides. Her face was flushed red and her nostrils were flaring as she leveled her eyes at Daisy. The hardness of her gaze made it seem as if her blue eyes had transformed into crystalline blue ice chips. "Shut the fuck up!" she bellowed. "For once, in your miserable sycophantic life, will you please do what any other person with the IQ that is granted to most upright sloths would do and be quiet!"

Brennan's outburst seemed to draw the attention of every single pair of eyes in the lab―from Cam to Hodgins to Angela to the various techs that stopped mid-stride. The only sound of the lab was the opening of the front doors as Booth and Sweets suddenly entered and stopped chatting as soon as they realized that something wasn't quite right in the atmosphere of the lab as the walked inside.

Daisy, quite obviously, seemed to be the most shocked at Brennan's words. Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes filled with unshed tears. At last, her body trembling slightly, she said, "Dr. Brennan?"

Shaking her head, Brennan muttered as she considered what Daisy had inadvertently said―and had touch a very raw and exposed set of nerves―and added, "You're a child, Daisy Wick―an infantile and puerile child who's never learned to shut the fuck up. You should never talk about things of which you have no knowledge. When in doubt, silence is always the wisest course of action!" She paused and then shook her head. "I've reviewed your past work while I've been convalescing. It has been sub par at best, particularly your report on the Anok mummy. For this moment on, consider yourself on probation. I no longer have faith in your osteological or analytical skill sets. Until such time as we can arrange a complete review of your internship, you are not allowed to work on any cases unsupervised." Brennan paused only to take a breath before she continued. "Pending the outcome of your internship review, from this point on, you're not allowed to work on anything in this lab unless you are assisting Dr. Edison since I know that I can at least trust his professionalism."

"But―"

"No!" Brennan yelled. She stopped and took a step closer to Daisy as she choked down a deep breath and tried to modulate her voice. "That's my final decision. If you don't like it, you're feel free to leave…which, honestly, may be in the best interests of both this lab and your career…or what's left of it. Because, to be quite honest, Ms. Wick, you're weak and foolish girl. I don't know why I ever let you back into my lab, not once, but twice. I can only attribute it to a bout of sentimentality I must've had thrust on me because I allowed your lover to manipulate me." She paused again for breath before she continued, "Any woman who lets her sexual relationship with a male influence her career is an embarrassment. Now, I would suggest you make your choice―either stay under the conditions I've outlined or leave. I don't really care which one you choose so long as you stay far away from me for the rest of today so I don't have to hear you chittering voice. It gives me a headache…particularly when you're spewing such inane drivel."

"But, Dr. Brennan," Daisy said, sobbing her name as she reached out and tried to touch her arm. "You don't really mean any of that. I know you don't. Please, I―"

"Don't you dare touch me!" Brennan snapped. "Get away from me, now!"

"Dr. Brennan―"

Flashing anger again as she felt a wave of bile come up in the back of her throat, she quickly swallowed it and yanked her arm away. Then, as quick as a flash, she shoved Daisy away from her as hard as she could, breezed off the platform, and walked right past Sweets and Booth as she exited the lab.

It took Booth only a few seconds before he blinked, looked at the lab doors, and then was on his feet as he took off after her.

* * *

><p>The quartet of personnel that remained on the platform after Brennan's eviscerating dismissal of Daisy Wick that had sent the intern fleeing from the lab in tears was somewhat shocked at what they'd just witnessed. The emotional outburst, particularly on Brennan's part, had been the last thing that anyone expected.<p>

At last, after two or three minutes of heavy silence, Hodgins was the first one to exhale a very pronounced deep breath as his eyes darted back and forth from Angela to Cam to Sweets.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Wow."

As if Hodgins words had finally released him from the haze that had settled over him when Brennan stormed out of the lab, Sweets blinked once and then tilted his head as he said, "Oh, man."

"Wow sounds about right," Angela finally said as she looked over in the direction to which Brennan had disappeared.

"What in the hell just happened?" Cam said. "I mean, I know I haven't known Dr. Brennan as long as some of you people, but I don't think I ever thought, in a million years, that she would ever get that emotional and just unleash like that…especially on one of her students? Here, of all places―in the lab?"

"Well," Hodgins said. "I've probably known her the longest, but…well, I don't know what else to say but that I think you're pretty accurate, Cam. Dr. B…I've never seen her that…emotional before." He paused and then stopped as he looked over at his ex-fiancée. "Ange?"

Shaking her head slowly, Angela had a thoughtful look on her face as she shrugged her shoulders lightly. "Yeah, I mean…I've seen Bren in a lot of different moods and mindsets…but, no. I've never seen her quite like this."

"I, uhhh," Sweets began with a shake of his head. "I need to go after Daisy…to see how she is." He began to head towards the lab exit when he stopped and called back over his shoulder, "Everyone knows…she probably shouldn't have come back to work, yet, right?"

With a sigh, Hodgins was the first to rise to Brennan's defense as he said, "Now is really not a good time to be tossing out that kind of stuff, Sweets."

"Yeah," Angela said. "If Brennan said she was ready to come back to work, she's ready."

"And, besides," Cam confirmed. "Booth agreed. He said she was fine."

Shaking his head emphatically, Sweets said, "Oh, come on guys. Really?" His eyes bounced back from Cam to Hodgins to Angela. When he saw the same confidence in Brennan reflected in each individual's eyes, Sweets sighed in dejection. "Now, please―guys…don't make me the bad guy here. How can I be the only one who sees what's really going on here?"

"And, what is it that you think is really going on here, Sweets?" Angela said as she crossed her arms.

As three faces frowned defensively at Sweets, he shook his head as he waved his hands in supplication. "Fine. I guess I'll be the bad guy here. It seems as if that's the way it's always got to be. So, fine. I'll say what I've gotta say here." He paused for breath before he launched into what appeared to be a well rehearsed litany. "Something's obviously very wrong with Dr. Brennan. Her outburst is a classic sign that she isn't coping with the extreme psychological trauma that she suffered as a result of her accident. And, the longer that she's been allowed to avoid dealing with the consequences of her fall…well, it's hurting her more than helping her." He stopped for a few seconds and then said, "Now, I know that everyone's meant well by trying to shield her from confronting the ramifications of what happened to her two months ago, but by doing that, everyone…especially Booth, has been doing more harm than good. He's impairing her healing process. Until she faces what happened to her, she'll never get past it. That's one of the reasons why I wanted Booth to let me see her so that we could start working on these issues in a healthy and protected therapeutic environment. But, by keeping her isolated―"

"She hasn't been isolated," Angela said immediately.

"Oh, come on," Sweets nodded. "You can't tell me that it hasn't bothered any of you that you guys weren't allowed to see her at the hospital and then when she was in recovery at the long-term care facility?"

"Nope," Angela said with a shake of her head. "It didn't because I saw Bren almost every other day."

"I went three times a week," Hodgins said. "Sometimes more when she called me and needed something."

"I went about once a week," Cam confirmed with a tilt of her head. "But, we stayed in constant contact by telephone, text, and email."

Sweets' eyes widened a bit as his face paled. "Uhh, but…they told Daisy and I that the only list of approved visitors were family―"

Narrowing his eyes, Hodgins took a step closer to the psychologist as he said, "So, maybe that should tell you something, huh, Sweets?" He paused and then nodded as he added, "And, just a piece of advice since you seem like a fairly well-meaning guy despite all your dumbass comments…if I were you, I probably wouldn't repeat that bit of your spiel about Booth hurting Dr. B instead of helping her. He probably won't take it very well if he hears you saying that."

Everyone couldn't help but smile or chuckle slightly as they saw Sweets pale a bit more and swallow once. He then shook his head as he said, "You guys know I'm right. Dr. Brennan's in trouble, and she needs help."

"I thought you said you were going to go check on Daisy, Sweets," Angela said in a gentle but firm tone. "She seemed pretty upset. Maybe you should go after her since we're done here."

Knowing he was beat―at least for the moment―Sweets sighed. "Yeah, I guess everyone's right. We're done here."

* * *

><p>Brennan sat on a bench in the Jeffersonian rose gardens. Breathing deeply, the early summer roses were a pungent fragrance that distracted her as she tried to gather herself and regain control of the swirl of emotions that had broken through in the lab when she commenced on Daisy. It was as she struggled to find an even breathing pattern that Booth found her.<p>

Coming to sit down on the opposite end of the bench on which she was situated, Brennan mentally groaned.

"Hey," he said in a soft voice.

"Hello," Brennan finally managed to say in a quiet voice, although she couldn't meet his gaze.

The pair sat, staring at a particularly hearty rose bush that was covered in blooms.

The hybrid tea, one that Brennan knew was called a Double Delight, was a particularly fragrant species of roses that had been created in the nineteenth century by crossbreeding European roses with a species from the Orient. This particular type of rose was a pale cream color in the center with a bright and true fuchsia colored tingeing the edges. Aside from the Mr. Lincoln long-stemmed red roses, the Double Delights were probably one of her favorite types of roses.

Nodding at them, Booth said, "They're very pretty."

"Yes," she agreed morosely. "They are."

He paused for a seconds and then said, "You know I came in on the tale end of the…discussion you were having with the spazztastic flaky firehose of junior squintiness there…." He stopped and then said, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Brennan said instantly.

"Are you?" Booth said as he turned to face her with an arched eyebrow. "Are you really?" He paused and then said, "You know, Bones―setting aside the fact that you gave Daisy an epically awesome verbal smackdown there, she still is Sweets' girlfriend."

"So?" Brennan asked. "I fail to see―"

With a sigh, Booth cut her off, "Well, I don't think Sweets would hold a grudge…because he knows I would kick his ass several times over if he tried, but…well, you know―"

"What, Booth?" Brennan asked with concern clearly writ on her face. "What are you trying to say that I don't think you're accurately conveying to me?"

"It's just that…well, I didn't want you to worry about this, but a week or two ago, but Sweets came by the office and mentioned something about what would have to happen once you decided to come back to work," Booth began to explain.

"I don't understand," Brennan said. "Sweets has nothing to do with my employ at the Jeffersonian."

"Well, no," Booth agreed. "Not at the lab. But, once you want to get back into the field with me, he did mention the fact that he as going to have to make sure you were vetted before that could happen."

As soon as he said the words, he again saw the brief flash that had tended to creep across Brennan's face in recent days. He felt a familiar flash of pain as he realized that he'd at last identified a tell in his partner. Whatever she was about to say was something that wasn't completely truthful, and whatever it was, it was about something that Brennan had felt some flash of pain.

"Bones," he said in a quiet voice. "Please―don't do that."

"Do what?" she said.

"I'm not sure what it is, or why it started happened, or when…but I know you're about to do it right now…please don't do it," Booth told her.

"I'm not―"

"Yes," Booth insisted as he turned around and faced her with a keen look on his face. "Yes, you are. You've been doing it for a while now." He paused and stopped for a few seconds, and then, for some reason, he reached out and gently laid a hand on her knee. He felt a twist of pain in his gut as saw her body tense at his touch. "Bones―please. Tell me what's wrong."

Her eyes glanced down at his hand and then she slowly shook her head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, lifting her gaze to meet his with a small shake of his head. "I..I-I just can't, okay? Not…at least, not right now."

"Okay," he nodded. "Then, as long as you'll tell me when you're ready, I'm okay with that."

Brennan remained silent and didn't say anything. Booth forced himself not to sigh and instead slowly lifted his hand off his knee.

Clearing his throat, Booth said, "Okay, then. Well, uhh, like I was saying, Bones. Before you come back into the field with me, Sweets or one of the other approved Bureau headshrinkers is gonna have to sign off on it."

"I'm not going to have therapy sessions with Sweets," Brennan said, a flash of her old fire coming into her bearing as she met Booth's gaze. "It's not happening, Booth."

"Okay," Booth agreed gently. "Okay. If you don't want to talk to Sweets, you don't have to―"

"Good," Brennan said, standing up and crossing her arms. "Because that's just not happening."

"I know Sweets isn't the only headshrinker on the Bureau's payroll," Booth told her. "We'll find someone else."

"If you can't, though, I don't want to put our partnership at risk, Booth, but I'm not talking to Sweets. It's just not happening," she repeated.

"It's okay, Bones," Booth reassured her, although he wasn't quite sure how he'd make it to be so. "If you don't want to talk to Sweets, you don't have to. We'll find a way, right?"

"Right," Brennan responded, her face softening a bit as she looked at Booth's concerned face. "Because that's what we always do."

"Yeah," he nodded firmly. "That's what we always do."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - The muse has light up on this story for some reason. At this point, I want to tip my cap to the most excellent Boothisms-on-Demand service of the Dharmasera, Inc. internal division (firehouse of flakiness credit/Boothyism debt acknowledged here). I also know a few people are curious as to when other updates on my stories will be forthcoming. It's likely the next story (besides this one) to get an update will be "More From Brennan's Nonexistent Journal." I know a few people are still curious as to when updates will be coming for "Betrayed by Those Loved Best" (answer: I don't know, the muse is being finicky about that one) and "Revisiting a Big Mistake" (answer: at some point in the near future…work has begun on the next chapter, but it's a pivotal scene with some epic hotness that's taking a bit longer than I expected it to, but I think it'll be worth it). Rest assured, they're still in the pipeline. In the meantime, I hope this story is of interest to some. To my stalwart reviewers, I cherish the feedback you've given me. I know in the past few chapters, this story has taken a turn that appears not to be to the liking of some people since interest/review #'s have gone down, but if you're lurking about, please, please, please, take a moment and let me know what you think. More reviews=quicker updates. I promise. :)~


	9. Ch8:The Return of Dr Wyatt

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: This story is set at the end of 4x25 'The Critic in the Cabernet." It veers into AU land just before the end of that episode. So readers aren't confused—this story assumes that Booth never had a brain tumor, and thus, all of the events that ensued because of his tumor (i.e., brain surgery, coma dream, etc.) also never happened. This story also assumes that Brennan *was* inseminated as planned.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8 – The Return of Dr. Wyatt<span>

* * *

><p>"And, I'm telling you, Sweets―if you want me to seriously consider consenting to the charade that it would be in agreeing to let you assess me for my required psychological vetting by the FBI, continually invading my personal space is not the way to do it," Brennan snapped.<p>

Brennan was in her office, having stood up from where she'd been sitting on the couch. Booth, who had gone to the breakroom to grab a cup of coffee, had only been gone a few moments. He'd finally coaxed Brennan to return to the lab from the gardens. His brow was furrowed in a mixture of annoyance, aggravation, and anger when he came back and found that Brennan was no longer alone.

"You know, that would mean that you've given some reassessment to the validity of the effectiveness and significance of psychological counseling," Sweets said, a bit of excitement coming into his voice. "That's a good thing, Dr. Brennan. Perhaps after everything that's happened to you―"

"Your girlfriend didn't take this advice when I gave it to her earlier," Brennan almost snapped. "Now would be a good time to shut up, Dr. Sweets. You don't know anything about what happened to me, so be quiet."

"What are you doing here, Sweets?" Booth said as he took a step towards Brennan, trying to insert himself between his partner and the psychologist. "Shouldn't you be with Daisy or something?"

"Daisy went home," Sweets answered. "She felt it was best given what's happened."

"Then, why are you still here?" he said, walked to Brennan and gave her the coffee cup that he was carrying. She immediately set it on the coffee table and continued to stare in what was more than slight hostility at Sweets. "Because, don't think I don't know what's going on here."

"Oh?" Sweets said. "And, what is that exactly, Agent Booth?"

"I turn my back and leave Bones alone for the first time in almost two hours and here you come sneaking in here, Sweets, and that's pure coincidence, right?" Booth responded with narrowed eyes. "No, I don't buy that at all. You've been skulking around, waiting for a chance to pounce on her, and I'm not gonna let you get away with it."

"I wanted to talk to her alone," Sweets mumbled, paling a bit.

"I told you," Booth said as he took a step towards Sweets. "We talked about this, Sweets―remember?"

"I...I-I―"

"Now is not the time to be doing this, so time to go, Sweets," Booth said as he nodded at the door. "Don't worry. No need to call us. When she's ready, we'll call you."

"No," Sweets said as Booth grabbed his shoulder and had started to shuffle the psychologist towards the office door. Digging in his feet, Sweets turned and said, "I'm not going anywhere, Agent Booth. Not until I've talk with Dr. Brennan about what happened." He paused and looked to the forensic anthropologist in appeal. "Dr. Brennan," Sweets began, his voice taking on what was a simultaneously condescending and placating tone that only served to aggravate Brennan even more. "Please. I think we're all rational and intelligent adults here. Can we agree that you're earlier behavior was at least a deviation from how your normal and well-established personality would typically respond? Your outburst on the platform―"

"Sweets, come on," Booth muttered. "Don't you think she's had enough for one day?"

"No, I don't," Sweets said. "She's in obvious emotional turmoil, Agent Booth. She―"

"My outburst on the platform," Brennan interrupted Sweets with a sharp look, "Was an internal matter of concern only to personnel of the Jeffersonian, Dr. Sweets."

"But, Daisy―"

"While I appreciate your concern for Ms. Wick, given the status of your personal relationship with her, and while I'm willing to admit that it was most inappropriate for me to Ms. Wick in the manner I did―and I _will _apologize to her for that at some later date―you must understand that she wouldn't leave well enough alone." Brennan paused, tilted her head, and then added in a different voice, "She just kept talking and wouldn't shut up."

"And, she hit some sore points?" Sweets asked, tilting his head at Brennan. "Didn't she? Isn't that why you reacted as strongly as you did?"

"Sweets," Booth growled, tightening his hold on the younger man's shoulder. "Now is not the time to do being this. Seriously, you're going now. Enough."

"I'm sorry, Agent Booth, but I disagree," Sweets said as twisted away from Booth's grasp. "Dr. Brennan's crude and emotional public outburst indicates a severe lack of self control and―"

"Sweets!" Booths said, taking a step towards him. "I just spent an hour and a half getting Bones to come back in here. Now is _not _the time to be doing this. Seriously―shut the hell up!"

"It is if she wants to get vetted to resume work with the Bureau," Sweets said, crossing his arms and refusing to allow Booth to intimidate him.

"What?" Brennan said, this time rounding on Sweets.

"You're well aware of the requirements that need to be satisfied before you can return to active fieldwork, Dr. Brennan," Sweets said. "And, since I'm the one who has say-so over that happening or not, until we resume our counseling sessions―which, by the way, after what I've seen today, will need to be increased to both solo and joint therapy appointments―I'm not giving you my permission to return to work."

Brennan's eyes narrowed at Sweets words. "Let me make certain I understand you correctly, Dr. Sweets."

_Oh shit_, Booth thought, paling a bit as he recognized her tone and bearing for what is was. _If he's not careful, she's going to_―

"Are you trying to tell me that you think you can tell me what to do?" she said, her voice eerily calm as she her jaw hardened and her nostrils began to flare.

"In the context of your relationship with Agent Booth, yes―" Sweets began.

Booth**'**s face flushed as he mentally groaned at the psychologist's words. _Oh, boy. Bad choice, Sweets. Just shut up now, will ya? _"Sweets, I've tried being nice," he said**, **his voice getting louder with each word as he took a step towards the younger man again. "Now, I'm telling you flat out that if you don't get the hell out of this office, right now**, **I'm going to have to knock you on your ass―"

"Booth," Brennan snapped. "Stop it."

"What?" he said, suddenly taken aback by the sharpness of her words directed at him as they were. "What did I do?"

"I don't need you―" she stopped and drew a deep breath. "This is my office. I can take care of myself." Shaking her head, Brennan took a step towards Sweets as she said. "Now, get out."

"Pardon me?' Sweets said.

"You heard me," Brennan responded with more than what was a slight touch . "This is my office. I didn't invite you here. There's no official reason why you need to be here right now, seeing as how I haven't officially applied for reactivation with the FBI in my context as a consultant and there's nothing related to any FBI cases at present in this office. And, any minute influence you might have on my relationship, or lack thereof, with Booth...well, it's all in your head, Dr. Sweets. Now, get the hell out of my office before I forgo the formality of calling security and take immense joy out of removing you myself."

"Sweets," Booth said with a rigid jaw, cutting off the younger man who had opened his mouth to speak. "Seriously, it's time to go now."

"No, Agent Booth," Sweets said, a touch of emotion finally cracking his voice. "I tried telling you this before, but obviously I didn't do a good job. The longer that you try to keep Dr. Brennan from facing what's happened to her and making peace with those events, the more damage that's being done long term to her mental well-being. You think you're protecting her, but you're not. Now, I know Dr. Hodgins and the others think that I'm stupid for telling you this, but you guys aren't just my patients, you're also my friends. I care about what happens to you, and I'm worried about Dr. Brennan."

"If you care about her then leave her be, Sweets," Booth said**, **the tips of his ears turning red as his anger grew. "So, help me God, now isn't the time―"

"Get out, Sweets!" Brennan snapped, her eyes watering in a way that both men noticed. "GET. OUT!"

"But, Dr. Brennan―" Sweets said, as he took a step towards her and reached out.

Somewhat unexpectedly, it wasn't Booth who finally got Sweets out of the office. However, it was Booth who watched in slow motion as he saw Sweets reach out and latch tightly on as he grabbed Brennan's closest shoulder, he saw Brennan tighten her clenched hand into a fist and pull back and release with as much fury as she could muster. It was also Booth who saw Sweets go down like a straw man in a strong gust of wind.

_Oh, shit_―

* * *

><p>Dr. Lance Sweets sat in his office at the J. Edgar Hoover Building. His normally pristine appearance was marred by the fact that he'd taken off his tie, his traditionally starched white dress shirt was open at the collar, rumpled, and covered in droplets of dark brownish-red spots. He held an ice pack to his nose, hoping that the alternating pulse of icy numbness and throbbing in his nose would go away.<p>

"Oh, dear," a very lyrical voice came from the open doorway of Sweets' office. "Well, it appears as if my timing isn't as fortuitous as it normally is."

Straightening up from where he'd been slouching in his chair, Sweets winced as he removed the ice pack from where he'd been holding it against the side of his nose. "Dr. Wyatt―I, uhhh, I thought you'd retired."

"Not quite yet," Wyatt said with a genial smile. "I've still got a few loose ends to tie up before I set sail for the metaphorical cerulean depths of the paradise that is the International Culinary School at the Art Institute of Washington." He paused and then said, "Rough therapy session?"

"Of a sort," Sweets said with a sigh. "Dr. Saroyan took a look and assures me that I didn't actually break my nose, so it probably looks much worse than it is."

"Dr. Saroyan?" Wyatt said with an arched eyebrow. "So, might I infer from that statement that this unfortunate incident happened within the hallowed corridors of the Jeffersonian?"

"At the lab," Sweets nodded. "Yeah."

Arching an eyebrow, Wyatt said, "By chance the scuffle that resulted in your injury didn't have anything to do with Agent Booth or Dr. Brennan, did it?"

Sighing again, Sweets nodded slowly. "Dr. Brennan. I, uhh…I should've remembered. She doesn't like to be touched."

"Am I to take it to mean that…well, did Dr. Brennan do that?" Wyatt said as he took his index finger and gestured at Sweets.

Trying to fight the reflex to sniffle, although he really wanted to, Sweets nodded again. "Yeah. I guess I should just be thankful it was her who took a swing at me and not Booth. I was probably a bit more pushy than I should've been, but I've been trying to get a chance to talk to her." Sweets stopped and looked up at him, "You know what's happened to her in the last couple of months?"

Nodding, Wyatt said slowly, "A little birdie might've let me in on some of the finer, points, yes."

"I don't know why," Sweets began. "That I'm the only one who seems to see that she's in trouble. And, I don't mean that just as a psychologist. Personally, as her friend, I was worried about what happened to her just in principle…but, now that I've actually seen her, it's much, much worse than I thought. She's in trouble, Dr. Wyatt."

"Yes," Wyatt said gestured at one of Sweet's chairs. Wordlessly, Sweets indicated that Wyatt was welcome to take a seat. Sitting down, Wyatt then continued, "So, you've said."

"I want to help her, help _them_, but I just don't know what to do. I haven't even really started to help them yet, and I've already bungled this pretty badly. I think I may be in over my head, but I don't know what to do about it since no one else seems to realize she needs help," Sweets told the older man.

"Oh, I don't know, Dr. Sweets," Wyatt said with a thoughtful look coming into his eyes. "I mean this with all due respect, but surely you're not the only one who realized such difficulties about Dr. Brennan's situation."

"You haven't seen them," Sweets said with a shake of his head. "Booth's in denial, and the rest of her friends at the lab are so defensive on her behalf―and I get that, because I know they want to protect her, but…they're hurting more than helping her, and I don't know what to do about it besides to keep pushing."

"Ahh, yes," Wyatt said. "Perhaps, as today's unfortunate assault on your nose indicates…maybe a more subtle, and dare I say, delicate approach is needed in this matter?"

Shaking his head, Sweets said, "I don't do delicate…or subtle, come to think of it, very well. They don't really listen to me unless I'm practically shouting something."

"Then, perhaps that's something I might be able to give you a hand with," Wyatt said, a knowing look coming into his eyes. "After all, if the British aren't known for our subtlety than what do we really have left?"

Sweets opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it, and merely smiled in response.

* * *

><p>It was early morning, and for a split second, Brennan was taken back to the morning she had spent in the meditation gardens with Sister Bernadette during her weeks at the long-term care facility. In the two years since Booth had helped build a BBQ pit in Wyatt's backyard, he'd obviously made some horticultural improvements. While the large stone pavers still sat in front of the white French doors and a well-loved teak wood table and chairs still sat in front of the BBQ, other key changes marked the passage of time. Instead of the two reclining teak chairs that had sat underneath the market umbrella with blue awning, a red umbrella offered shade over two black wicker chaise lounges. The clay fire put was gone while a small wrought iron bench sat kitty-corner to the chaise lounges. Next to the bench, on a small square wrought iron table sat a miniature fountain that bubbled over three or four design element layers. Perhaps most strikingly, the shrubbery that had adorned the two-and-a-half foot space between the house and the stone pavers had been removed. Everygreens and ferns, with their sprinkling of English ivy crawling along the white picket fence had been replaced by something definitively more floral in nature.<p>

Wyatt noticed as Brennan stared at the hybrid tea roses bushes that stood at two-foot intervals around the patio area. He nodded at her and said, "Once in the late summer and once in the early fall, if I actually do what menial labor I must and continue to fight the good fight against that damn black spot and aphids that want to treat them like a feast ripe for the plundering, the blooms really are quite spectacular. The English roses that I love don't quite grow as well here as the hybrid teas do. My sister's really the true gardener, and I let her talk me into planting these bushes about a year and a half ago. Most of the bareroots were bushes that were at least three years old when we planted them, so overall we've been getting quite a good harvest during the big pops." Wyatt stopped and made a face as he said, "While I'd never tell her how proud I am of her proverbial green thumb, sometimes, just between you and I, Dr. Brennan, during the main weeks when the roses pop, the scent can be a bit overpowering. Sometimes, for the first couple or three weeks after it's happened, I want to do horrible things any time I merely sniff anything rose-scented. It's really quite unsettling…and obnoxious how pervasive the scent can become when one is inundated with it―even if the inundation was by choice."

Brennan considered the words and then merely shrugged. She sat back in the teak chair in which she'd situated herself, content to fold her hands and see exactly what Wyatt had in mind for her mandated therapy sessions. _Not that I'm surprised that he suggested that we meet here for the first session_, Brennan thought as her eyes bounced around the patio. _After all, this is where he conducted most of his sessions with Booth. Perhaps that's one of his preferences when he's leading therapeutic discussions. _

Shifting slightly in the chair in which he'd sat down after Brennan had taken up residence a few minutes before, he placed his left leg on his right knee and smiled at her. It was only when he felt that she'd had enough time to take in her setting did he speak after several prolonged moments of silence had passed between them.

"So," he smiled congenially at her. "Here we are."

As he looked at her for almost a full minute, simply smiling in that infuriatingly congenial way of his, Brennan finally sighed as she turned in her chair and said, "I assume that's a rhetorical question that you've posed with the hope that I'll begin to speak since you've no doubt read the most updated version of my psychological profile and you feel that you can draw me out by putting forth a question that you know I'll feel an eventual need to respond to in some way."

"Well, if I were such a devious fellow as the one you've painted me out to be by inferring such double motives in my actions, one might have to congratulate me on my nefariousness," Wyatt said, his smile never leaving his face.

"And, why's that?" Brennan asked.

"Because," Wyatt explained. "If there was such odious meaning behind my actions, you'd have to admit that it was quite a frightfully effective technique since, in fact, you _are _now talking, Dr. Brennan."

At the logic of his words, Brennan deflated a bit. She folded her hands and leaned back into the stiff support of the chair's teak backing before she looked at one of the roses and said softly, "You know I'm only here because of Booth."

"I know you're here because in order to safeguard your partnership with Agent Booth, and to ease the invasive attentions of the young Dr. Sweets, you know you need to speak with a psychologist still within the employ of the FBI, yes," Wyatt said.

"I hit him," Brennan said thoughtfully.

"Who?" Wyatt said, although he was perfectly well aware of whom she was speaking. "You hit Booth?"

"No," Brennan said, her head snapping up quickly to look at the older man. "No, of course not. I…that's not to say that I haven't slapped Booth before, but I've never technically hit him. Slapped? Yes. Shot? Yes, but it was a ricochet. Actually hit? No―I've never actually done that. I mean, not really. There was that one time...but, that didn't really count. I mean, that was a reflex, not a conscious decision on my part to hit him. For me to actually be aware of making that choice? I…I-I think I'd have to be push beyond my emotional limits of endurance and control before I'd actually hit him―unless he really deserved it."

"Well, speaking from personal experience," Wyatt observed wryly. "I know I feel safe in saying that the man can try the patience of a saint."

"Of course, I don't believe in saints," Brennan replied instantly. However, as soon as she realized what she'd said, she shook her head and made a face. "At least, I didn't."

"Didn't?" Wyatt said. "As in past tense?"

Brennan shrugged. "Maybe…I guess."

"Now, Dr. Brennan, come, come," Wyatt said. "Such simplistic answers I'd expect from someone like the delightfully irascible Agent Booth when he's trying to evade the question. But, I think between the two of us, you can forego such banalities, perhaps?"

"I'm not trying to avoid anything," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "If I wanted to avoid something, I wouldn't be here, all right? But, I _am_ here. I'm here because it's what's expected of me, and I'm trying to do what's expected of me."

As she finished speaking, Wyatt arched an eyebrow at her tell-tale words, but remained quiet for a moment. When he at last spoke he said, "Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content; 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy."

"Shakespeare?" Brennan asked.

Slowly, Wyatt nodded. "Very good."

"I'm not certain which play, though," Brennan admitted. "The iambic pentameter of most of Shakespeare's writing is easy enough to identify, but actually putting the more obscure quotes to which play from which they came is more difficult."

"That particular line was spoken by Lady MacBeth," Wyatt said. He stopped to gauge Brennan's reaction. When she remained silent, he continued. "You know, the historical wife of Mac Bethad mac Findlaích, the eleventh-century king of Scotland on whom Shakespeare based his early seventeenth-century character―at least as he understood him from _Holinshed's Chronicle_―was married to a noblewoman named Gruoch ingen Boite. The historical Gruoch was a bit more of an enigma than the Lady MacBeth of Shakespeare's play. While both women were married to a man who's name was anglicized as MacBeth, both lived in Scotland and were queens, both were mothers, and both played a key role in medieval Scottish politics, the similarities end there. From what we know of Gruoch, the records indicate she was married once before she wed MacBeth, to a nobleman from Moray that was killed when the hall where her husband sat feasting with about 50 of his men was set on fire. He died, leaving her a widow, with at least one child, a son named Lulach, who later became king of Scotland. She appeared to be a religious woman, because she endowed a number of monasteries and other religious houses. But, even that's supposition since every noble in the Middle Ages always was endowing religious foundations―even the particularly evil and murderous ones. Suffice to say, after her husband's death, she simply disappears from the historical record, and historians don't even know when she died, how, or where."

"History is an imprecise art," Brennan observed. "Historians are confined by what evidence they have."

"And, that onerous job is made even more difficult when artists come along, use historical details as they will, and their works become more popular than the history on which their writing was based," Wyatt commented. "It must be completely infuriating for them, but then again, that's why I'm many things, but a historian isn't one of them." He stopped and then added, "I imagine it must be completely infuriating when one is expected to act and behave in one way by an audience who only knows bits and pieces of truth. The Lady MacBeth of Shakespeare's play is almost in no way like the historical Gruoch, and yet many people probably can't make the distinction."

"But," Brennan said, quietly. "It's an important one. It's not right, and it's not fair―she shouldn't have to be remembered as someone she never was."

"True," Wyatt said. "But, fortunately for Gruoch ingen Boite, she doesn't have to worry about that since she's been dead for over a millennia."

"It doesn't matter," Brennan said, a bit of emotion creeping into her voice as she met the older man's gaze. "It doesn't matter. It still―it's still a horrible thing when a woman is expected to be one person and it's not who she's certain she is at all."

"It sounds as if you're speaking from personal experience there, Dr. Brennan," Wyatt said gently. "Are you?"

Brennan looked at him, and seeing nothing judgmental in his stare, she said, "I thought I knew who I was…but every time I think I do, I turn around and find something else that wasn't like I thought it was. I've spent the past two months trying to deal with that all the while knowing that I'll never be successful because―" Her voice trailed off as she felt a tightness in her throat.

Still, ever so gently, Wyatt pressed, "Because, why, Dr. Brennan?"

"Because I don't know what to believe anymore," Brennan suddenly snapped. "I died, and it wasn't like I thought, and now, when I woke up, things were like I thought they were, but then they weren't…and on top of it all, I don't know what to believe anymore because of what I saw."

"And, what is it that you saw, Dr. Brennan?" Wyatt asked.

"I…I-I…I saw evidence that everything I ever thought I knew to be the truth was wrong," Brennan said. "I died, and I saw proof that what happened to me wasn't a dream or a vision or anything that might be explained by my injuries or some scientifically-possible, even if not understood-happening of the brain. I saw something that could only have been true if I was wrong, and some higher power does exist…and it all has to do with him," Brennan said, the words coming out in a choked sob.

Knowing that she was almost there, but not quite, Wyatt questioned her as he quietly responded, "Because of who, Dr. Brennan?"

Swallowing once, as the tears began to roll down her cheeks, Brennan swallowed once as she said softly, "Isn't that obvious? Booth…it's all…it's all because of him. What I saw―everything…_everything _comes back to him. It's all…it's all because of Booth."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - Another doff of my cap to the Boothchecker services of the wonderful and innovating supportive _dharmamonkey_. Many thanks to those who are still with me. Coming up next: Brennan's first real therapy session with Gordon Gordon delves into the question…what did she really 'observe' that caused her crisis of faith? A hint: you've already seen a hint of it even if you didn't realize it at the time. Remember, more feedback = quicker chapter postings, so…I eagerly await everyone's responses.~


	10. Ch9:Remembering Her Other Life

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 9 – Remembering Her Other Life<span>

* * *

><p>Brennan sat with a cup of steaming tea in front of her. The tea cup sat in a saucer on top of Wyatt's outside teak picnic table. She watched it for a moment as the steam evaporated into the cool morning air. Yet again, she was beginning her morning with another appointment at Wyatt's abode. Yet again, she knew she'd be expected to talk with him. But, this time, unlike the previous visit, she wasn't quite as inflexible in her bearing since she now knew what was expected of her now that she was once more in the psychologist's presence.<p>

Looking down at the cup, Brennan's finger caressed the delicate pattern that adorned the outside. "This is a very pretty ceramic."

"Yes," Wyatt said as he shifted slightly in his seat. "It's always been one of my favorites."

"The patina on this glaze indicates that the bone china is quite old," Brennan said, looking up at him.

Nodding, slowly, Wyatt said, "It's a bit of a family heirloom. It's been handed down from parent-to-child for, uhhh, several generations, I think."

"I'm not much of an expert on ceramics, but I would hypothesize that it was fired in some type of master craftsman's shop," Brennan said as she lifted the tea cup towards her eyes and squinted at the design.

"I'm told," Wyatt said. "That it's been in the family for at least two or three centuries. The pottery type is referred to as English delftware."

"Tin glazed pottery?" Brennan mused. "That would be right for this type of patina."

"While the English variety was never as of such a high quality as the continental style from which it stole the illustrious name, it still has a soft spot in my heart since it's been in the family so long," Wyatt told her.

"At least since the eighteenth century," Brennan said. "If memory serves."

"As you say," Wyatt shrugged. "I've never really bothered to look."

"Well," Brennan shrugged as she set the teacup down. "I would. Don't take my word for it."

"Ahh, yes," Wyatt nodded. "Because you think you have memory problems, as I recall where we left our last discussion. Memory problems related to the gallant Agent Booth?"

Brennan frowned a bit. Letting her finger gently caress the rim of the teacup, she said, "I'm surprised that you still use this tea set given how old it is. It must be very valuable―if not for sentimental purposes, then, surely, monetary ones."

"Well, mum always said there was no point to having something if you weren't going to use it, so―" Wyatt shrugged.

Brennan nodded and a silence descended on the pair. At last, she looked up and said, "What do I do now?"

"So the famous Roman, Quintus Horatius Flaccus, a lyrical poet known to the English-speaking world as Horace, said 'Well begun is half-done'," Wyatt said quietly.

"So," Brennan said, the nervousness and anxiety clear in her voice. "I…I-I…I just have to begin?"

"Yes, my dear," Wyatt nodded with firm encouragement in his voice as he tried to will her to do what he know she so desperately needed to do. "When you're ready, take a deep breath…and begin where you will."

* * *

><p><em>As the black standard-government issue SUV cruised down Interstate 66 towards downtown D.C., Booth was doing his best to keep from letting a smile crack his neutral facial expression. At last, he saw Brennan shaking her head slightly.<em>

"_What?" he asked as he glanced in his side view mirror._

"_That's the best you can do?" she said as she shifted slightly in the passenger seat to look at him better._

"_What?" he said as he repeated his earlier statement._

"_Getting Homeland Security to snatch me so that you can stage a fake rescue," Brennan responded with a look._

"_Well," he chuckled openly, at last allowing the smile that had been threatening to crack his face for some time to emerge. "At least I picked you up at the airport, huh?"_

"_You were going to do that anyway," Brennan told him with a wry look. _

"_Yeah," Booth said as he signaled and moved the SUV into another lane. "But, I've gotta keep you on your toes, Bones. If I did something silly like just pick you up at the arriving flights gate like a normal person, what kinda message would that send?"_

_Unable to help herself, Brennan looked over at her partner. She noted that while he was dressed impeccably―freshly pressed black suit, stiffly starched white button-downed collar dress shirt, a more flashy than normal black, dark blue, and white stripped tie, and shiny black dress loafers―Brennan could still tell something was off about him. _

_Narrowing her eyes she said with a small smile still tugging at the edges of her mouth, "Maybe it would send one that you're a normal person?"_

"_Now, we both know that's not true," Booth snickered, moving his head to flash her a toothy grin as he quickly moved his eyes back to the road._

"_Yes," Brennan laughed. She stopped for a minute and then realized what was different about her partner. Leaning forward in her seat, she gently reached over and brought her fingers to the back of his head. "You got a haircut, didn't you?"_

_She let her fingers gently brush the smooth softness of the prickly short hairs on the back of Booth's head as she rubbed her hand up and down a couple of times before she let her hand fall away. _

_As she brought her hand back to her lap, Booth again flashed a smile at her. "Like it?"_

"_You know I always like it when you get a haircut," Brennan responded. _

"_Hmmmm," Booth chuckled. "Funny, that, huh?"_

_Even as he smiled at her, Brennan then felt something click in her mind as she took in the totality of Booth's face. Her brow furrowed a bit a she finally noticed the significance of the details that her brain had been trying to process since he'd picked her up._

"_You've lost some weight," Brennan observed with a small frown marring her pretty face. "And, you haven't been sleeping, have you?"_

_At her words, some of Booth's easy bravado disappeared as he shot her a different look―a more guilty look―as he quickly tried to brush off her concerns. "It's nothing, Bones―just been a bit busier than normal."_

"_You've been sleeping on your couch again, haven't you?" Brennan said, even though she knew the answer before she'd asked the question._

_Sighing, Booth knew he was caught. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, he told her, "Maybe once or twice."_

"_Booth!" Brennan sighed. "You promised―"_

"_Sorry," he said. "I have been trying…and for the most part, doing pretty well. But, since I knew you were coming back this week, I've just had a lot on my mind, okay?" _

"_Ahhh," Brennan said, another look of comprehension dawning on her face as looked at her partner. "Well, that took longer than I thought."_

"_What?"_

"_You did pretty well," Brennan said as she glanced at her watch. Chuckling, she said, "You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would―"_

"_Hey," Booth said, flashing her what bordered on a lewd grin. "I'll have you know that's what they always say about me, just FYI, there, Bones."_

"_Mmmmm hmmmm," she said. Stopping she sat back in her seat, crossed her arms, and licked her lips once as Booth continued to guide the SUV towards downtown. After a couple of minutes of silence, she said, "You can go ahead and ask me you know."_

"_Nope," Booth replied instantly. "Not yet."_

"_Not yet?" Brennan asked, surprise creeping into her voice as she looked over at her partner. "What do you mean not yet?"_

"_I've waited eight weeks to be able to get my answer," Booth said simply. "I can wait another twenty minutes."_

"_Twenty minutes, huh?" Brennan remarked with curiosity clear in her voice. "What happens in twenty minutes?"_

"_You'll find out," Booth nodded. "So, until then, why don't you crank the tunes if you're bored?"_

_Knowing that it was more for his benefit than for hers, Brennan did as he'd asked. Reaching forward, she pressed a button on the dashboard, and the stereo quickly came to life. Booth had left it set on CD, not the radio, and so the melodious tunes of one of his CDs quickly filtered into the SUV's cab._

_Home is where I want to be  
>Pick me up and turn me round<br>I feel numb - burn with a weak heart  
>(So I) guess I must be having fun<em>

_The less we say about it the better_  
><em>Make it up as we go along<em>  
><em>Feet on the ground<em>  
><em>Head in the sky<em>  
><em>It's okay, I know nothing's wrong ... nothing<em>

_Immediately, as soon as the music started to play, another smile lighted on Booth's face. His head began to bob a bit to the music as he tapped one set of fingers on the steering wheel. _

_As Brennan listened to the music, she tilted her head as she said, "You've played this song for me before, haven't you?"_

"_Mmmm hmmm," Booth responded. _

"_I like it," Brennan said. "I mean, I knew that I liked it the first time I heard it. I liked the blend of instruments. It's not just your traditional rock music arrangement. There's quite a diversity in the accompanying instruments. I find the combination of the traditional guitar and bass and drums to be very pleasing when mixed with the keyboards and wind instruments that provide the flute and penny-whistle sounds. It's a very upbeat melody."_

"_One of Talking Heads' best," Booth agreed. "Off of 1983's 'Speaking in Tongues'. The album it self wasn't all that memorable besides the fact that 'Burning Down the House' was the group's first US top ten hit, but this song is friggin' awesome."_

"_What's it called again?" Brennan asked._

"_Well," Booth explained. "It's official title is 'Naïve Melody', but most people call is 'This Must Be the Place'."_

_Hi yo, I got plenty of time  
>Hi yo, you got light in your eyes<br>And you're standing here beside me  
>I love the passing of time<br>Never for money  
>Always for love<br>Cover up and say goodnight_

"_Hmmmm," Brennan mused. "I think I find the first title to be more appropriate."_

_Chuckling, Booth asked, "And, and why's that?"_

"_Like I said, the arrangement―"_

"_It's actually because of the musical arrangement that Dave Byrne gave it that title," Booth said. "The title 'Naïve Melody' is talking about the fact that the bass and the guitar are playing the exact same pieces throughout the entire song."_

_Home - is where I want to be  
>But, I guess I'm already there<br>I come home - she lifted up her wings  
>Guess that this must be the place<br>I can't tell one from another_

_Did I find you, or you find me?_  
><em>There was a time<em>  
><em>Before we were born<em>  
><em>If someone asks, this where I'll be…where I'll be.<em>

"_You know quite a lot about this song, Booth," Brennan smiled as he continued to move his head to the beat of the music. _

"_Well, like I said, Bones, Talking Heads is one of the best and one of my favorites," he explained._

_Smiling, Brennan shook her head slightly and looked out the passenger side window. All too soon, they were cruising down a very familiar street. They didn't say another word until Booth slowed the car down and parked in front of a very familiar building. Once he'd put the SUV in park and flicked the radio off, he unfastened his seat belt and shifted so that he was facing Brennan._

"_So," he said with a very pleased look on his face. _

"_Yes?" Brennan asked, her own eyes dancing in expectation._

"_You know, I think I deserve my gold star here, Bones," he said with a bit of playfulness coming into his voice. "I made it a whole seventy-four minutes from when you landed until now without even bringing it up once."_

"_Yes," she agreed with a slow nod of her head. "Yes, you have. Remind me the next time I go to Office Depot, I'll get you a package of the foil stars. Then, I'll be able to reward you with both red, green, silver, and gold stars."_

_Suddenly, Booth reached out and leaned forward across the SUV's center console. Bringing his right hand to her face, he gently cupped her jaw and began to lightly stroke her cheek with the callused pad of his thumb. She shivered a bit, as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation. When she opened her eyes with a soft sigh escaping her lips, she saw him staring at her._

"_You know," he said quietly. "If you wanted to reward with me with something, I can think of something I'd really like a whole hell of a lot better than a simple gold star, Bones."_

"_Oh?" she said as she tilted her head into his hand and pressed her cheek against his gentle touch. "And, what's that?"_

"_You know what I want," he said in a gentle voice. "And, I think I've been pretty damn patient, Bones―I've done what you asked. I haven't pressed you. I stayed away. I gave you time and space―even though, just between you, me, and the wall, there were about two dozen times in the past month and a half where I came pretty damn close to hopping on a flight down to Guatemala and ambushing you."_

"_I know," she chuckled. "I could tell that you were becoming…impatient."_

"_But, I kept up my end of the bargain," he reminded her. "Now, I think it's time for you to put me out of my misery, here, have some mercy, and give me an answer to my question, huh?"_

_Leaning towards him she smiled as she brought her face close to his. "I think you already have your answer."_

"_Do I?" he dared to breath._

"_Mmmm hmmm," she nodded, a light in her pale blue eyes dancing mischievously as she looked into his molten brown irises. _Like melted chocolate_, Brennan thought as she blinked in spite of a declaration to stare into the smoothy silkiness of their singed depths. _Smooth milk chocolate that's been on a slow burn for so long that it's just started to melt_. "After all," she explained when he gave her a clearly expectant look. "If I wasn't going to tell you 'yes', don't you think you'd have a broken arm by now?" She paused and gave him another playful grin as she added, "Or, at the very least, a serious ass kicking?"_

"_You can kick my as anytime you want as long as the answer's yes," he said, his mood immediately shifting so that the pleasure and confidence in his bearing was now quite clear. The fatigue that had earlier been of some concern to her seemed to have fallen away to be replaced with a ruddy glow to his skin as he licked his lip and leaned into her. "The answer's yes, isn't it?"_

"_Yes," she breathed, as she turned and reached for him. Although it was awkward with the console, cutting into her side, she quickly wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. "I missed you," she said quietly into his ear, the moisture of her breath as she whispered the words causing the small hairs in his ears to tingle in expectation. "I started missing you as soon as the plane landed in Guatemala City eight weeks ago―and that's when I knew. I hadn't been away from you for even twelve hours, and I already missed you. I just...I just knew."_

_Pressing his lips to the smooth expanse of creamy neck that she'd exposed for him, he began to trail a wet line up towards her jaw. "You have no idea how awesome that is to hear," he breathed. In between kisses, he mouthed into her skin more than actually spoke, "Thank God. Thank God. Thank God."_

"_You thought I was going to say no?" she chuckled, a throaty lilt coming into her voice that caused him to feel as if his heart had skipped a beat. "Didn't you?"_

"_Well, honestly...__I was kinda/sorta worried there for a bit, yeah," he finally admitted. "I-I…I didn't know what I was going to do if you came back and said that you didn't want to be with me, that you didn't want to give us a chance at being together."_

"_Hmmmmm," she said as she pressed her lips to his smooth jaw and began to make a line of light kisses from his ear, along the curve, and towards his full lips. "Lucky for you then that the answer is yes." _

_She kissed the small space below his bottom lip first before she looked up and smiled. "Yes," she repeated. Brennan then moved her mouth to his bottom lip and tentatively opened her mouth. Her bright red tongue darted out and traced a soft and slick line across his bottom lip from right to left and back again. She saw Booth shiver again as she pulled away only far enough to mouth, "Yes." _

_Leaning in again, she once more parted her lips and let her tongue dart out as she gently pried open his own lips. Gradually, she plunged her lush tongue into his mouth and sought out his. _

_Booth, a bit nervous at first as she tried to coax a response from him, was hesitant only until he felt her wet tongue poking at the space between his top and bottom rows of teeth. Sighing a bit into her mouth, he quickly let go of any doubts, inhibitions, fears, or concerns and pulled her tongue towards his. They quickly dueled, tongues swirling over one another as the wetness of the kiss made it all too clear that at least one type of bodily fluid was being exchanged. At last, the need for air caused them to break apart. A dazed, but completely happy look was on Booth's face as he slowly pulled away from her, gasping for air. In the course of what had been one of the best make-out sessions he'd ever had―especially considering the fact that they were both still completely clothed and no groping on either one's part had occurred―Booth's thoughts were suddenly very far away from a set of remains that awaited them at Arlington National Cemetery. _

_Taking in the sight of her, eyes bright, lips bruised from his kissing, face and neck flushed a healthy pink, and chest heaving as she gasped for breath, Booth only stopped to ask one final question. "Yes?"_

_Laughing a bit, Brennan happily nodded and confirmed one final time. "Most definitely yes."_

_Booth needed no further encouragement. His erection made shifting in the car seat somewhat unpleasant, but as he moved so quickly to turn the SUV off and pull the key out of the ignition, his mind didn't really have much time to catch up with what his body was telling him aside from the fact that he felt a pounding in his ears, a tugging behind his navel, and an intense, almost desperate desire to suddenly be completely and totally naked. Climbing out of the driver's side, he slammed the door shut so loudly that Brennan jumped a bit as the movement had startled her. By the time he'd moved around to the other side of the car, pulled open her passenger side door, and reached for her seat belt, Brennan was laughing._

"_Come on, Bones," he muttered. "Chop, chop."_

"_But, don't we have a crime scene to get to?" she teased him playfully. "Remember? The remains you told me about?"_

"_Fuck the remains," Booth growled, as he reached into the car and pulled her towards him. "Right now, the only thing I really care about is getting you out of this car, into that building, through your apartment door, and stripping you completely naked. So, anything that doesn't have anything to do with achieving those immediate goals can wait, huh?"_

_Her smile widening, Brennan barely had enough time to grab her messenger back from the floor of the SUV before Booth had set her on her feet, slammed the door, and locked the car with his key fob. He took in the sight of her, standing before him, and the look of hunger clearly shining in his eyes made it almost seem as if he was going to devour her. And, as Brennan thought about it, she suddenly realized that the idea appealed to her very much._

"_Now," he said as he took his thumb and gestured towards her apartment building. "Can you walk or am I going to have to carry you?"_

_For a brief moment, Brennan contemplated what it would be like to have him throw her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. But, mindful of his back, and wishing to take no chance that he might injure himself before they'd made love, she simply gave him a wink before she dashed off towards the building's entrance, leaving him standing as he watched her form quickly disappear. Booth only waited a few seconds, staring at the shapeliness of her hips and the swell of her ass as it jogged through the parking lot before he took off in hot pursuit, the heaviness of his pounding feet giving him away instantly as he gave chase._

* * *

><p><em>The room was dark, cool, and inviting, quite pleasing to its only two occupants who were snuggled under the covers and sheets of the queen size bed. Perhaps snuggled wasn't the right word, since something infinitely more intimate than snuggling was going on in that particular moment.<em>

_Booth, his eyes darkened in focused concentration, slid in and out of Brennan at a measured pace. He was doing his best to use his arms to keep himself propped over her so that she wasn't crushed as he moved. His naked body was flushed with the impending nature of his orgasm, and perspiration dotted his forehead as he continued to stroke in and out of her. _

"_Oh, God, Bones―" he moaned._

_As he moaned and continued to pump into her, Brennan lifted her legs from where they'd been hooked loosely over the back of his thighs and wrapped them loosely around his taut ass. Arching her back up to meet his thrust, she groaned as her slick walls tightened once around him and she cried out in release._

"_Fuuuccck," she muttered. "Oh, fuck, Boooo-tttthhh."_

_A split second later, she felt him convulse against her as he muttered something unintelligible. At almost the exact second, his upper body strength gave out, and he collapsed on top of her. Brennan, used to his movements, quickly used her leverage to roll them over so that they were on their sides._

_She blinked, a dreamy look in her eyes as she said, "Mmmmmm."_

"_Mmmm hmmmm," came the languid and drowsy response._

"_Mmmmmm," she chuckled again as she reached up and began to kiss him. _

_Brennan was about to suggest that they share a shower before returning to bed for a cuddle when suddenly a loud pounding was heard in the outer room. Brennan's body tensed as she frowned and nodded at him, "Door?"_

"_Hmmm?" Booth responded, still clearly a bit out of things in the haze of his orgasm. _

"_Door, Booth," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Someone's at the door."_

"_Ohhh," Booth growled as his ears perked up and his gaze went towards the bedroom door. When he heard the insistent knocking again, he sighed as he leaned back into the bed. "Fuck."_

"_That's for you," Brennan laughed as she felt Booth slip out of her with some reluctance. Drawing the sheet towards her as she watched him roll off of the bed and bend down to the floor from where they'd discarded his suit trousers and button down earlier in their haste to get into bed._

"_Fuck," he groaned as he pulled on his boxers and then balanced on one leg and then the other as he tried to get his pants on as quickly as possible. Once he was upright, his white shirt in his hand, he pointed at her with a cheeky grin. "Who ever it is, I'll get rid of them in two shakes, so don't go anywhere."_

_Laughing, Brennan nodded as she sat up, "Okay."_

"_Not anywhere, Bones," Booth called over his shoulder. "Both literally and metaphorically. As good as that was, we're not done, so don't go squintifying yourself out of the mood, huh?"_

_Brennan shook her head with an indulgent laugh as she saw Booth disappear into the family room. Several minutes passed by, and she heard a pair of muffled voices in the outer room. After ten minutes, when he still hadn't returned, and the voices had continued to talk at a low tone, Brennan's curiosity go the better of her. Throwing off the sheet and rolling out of bed herself, she reached down and quickly grabbed for the black bra and panties she'd been wearing when they'd arrived home from the Hoover with the latest case work on the Masruk bombing case. Unfortunately, as her eyes darted about the floor, she couldn't' see where her dress had disappeared to, and so, her eyes spying the door to Booth's closet open, she reached inside and plucked one of his white dress shirts off of the hanger. Pulling it on, she began to button it as she walked out into the family room. _

_Clearly, the blonde woman who stood next to Booth―who'd managed to button his own shirt―was surprised when she saw Brennan and realized that she and Booth hadn't been alone after all._

"_Uhhh, hello," Brennan said._

_Flushing slightly in embarrassment, the blonde woman said, "Oh, hi." She stopped and looked away as her eyes went from Booth's state of dishevel to Brennan's wrinkled appearance and back as she realized what she'd obviously interrupted. "Sorry."_

_Waving her off, Booth didn't seemed bothered in the slightest as he said, "Tessa, this is Brennan." He paused, almost adding the label that he knew Brennan was still a bit uncomfortable with and so merely nodded at her. _See? I didn't call you my girlfriend this time, Bones, so ha! Let it not be said that Seeley Booth can't be taught a new trick or two―or three_.__ Looking up at his partner he nodded and continued, "Tessa Jankow, Dr. Temperance Brennan."_

_A look of comprehension dawned on Brennan's face. "Oh, hi. I've heard a lot about you."_

"_Right," Tessa flushed. "I, uhhh―I'm sorry. I was just telling Seeley that I should've called first, but I was on my way home, and I thought he'd want to know ASAP."_

"_We got a new trial date, Bones," Booth smiled. "Tessa worked her magic here and got Rebecca's attorney to agree to proceed with the petition to establish a formal custody arrangement for Parker."_

"_Wow," Brennan said. "That's excellent news."_

"_We go before the judge in two weeks," Tessa explained. She pointed at a file folder she'd handed Booth. "I just thought he'd want to know, like I said―so, I'm sorry if I...if I interrupted anything."_

_Brennan opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a pleading look from Booth._

"_It was nice of you to stop by," Brennan quickly said. _

_The look of relief that crossed Booth's face as she spoke wasn't lost on her._

"_Well, it's why I'm the best, or so they tell me," Tessa laughed nervously._

"_And, worth every penny if you can get this thing with Parker straightened out," Booth nodded._

"_Yes, well, if you have any questions, just call the office," Tessa said as she shifted on the balls of her feet, her nervousness growing, as she edged towards the front door. "And, if not, I'll see you next week for the pre-trial prep, huh?"_

"_Sure thing," Booth said with a jovial smile as he went to the door and opened it._

"_Nice meeting you, Dr. Brennan," Tessa called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door._

_When it was shut and locked, Brennan stood before Booth with her nostrils flaring a bit and each hand placed in a clearly defensive mood on her hip. Booth took a step towards her, a very pleased look on his face as he smiled at her._

"_Awww," he grinned. "That's so cute."_

"_What?" Brennan said._

"_That," he pointed as he sauntered up to her. "That thing that you're doing right there where you're jealous."_

"_I didn't realize it was the lawyer," Brennan said a bit sulkily._

"_Hey, it doesn't matter," Booth shook his head as he grinned at her. "This news about Parker is great, and I wouldn't have even gotten it if you hadn't busted my balls about getting a new attorney."_

"_One who's suspiciously blonde and eerily similar in appearance to Rebecca," Brennan frowned. "Don't tell me that's a coincidence, Booth."_

"_Like I said," he grinned at her as he pulled her into a strong embrace. "You're very adorable when you're jealous now that we're doing the whole monogamous relationship thing." Brennan began to pout―at least until Booth brought his teeth to her earlobe, gave it a gentle tug, and then swiped his wet tongue over the soft skin. She shivered a bit as he whispered, "You look really good in my shirt, by the way."_

"_How good?" Brennan said, slightly appeased by the compliment, but not quite ready to let go of her sullenness._

"_Very," he said as he grinded into her slightly. "But, I still think you look best when you don't have anything on―"_

"_Oh?' she asked, suddenly melting into the warmth of his embrace. "Really?"_

"_Mmmm hmmm," he admitted. "I think we should, uhhh, see for certain though, there, Bones."_

"_Well," she purred in his ear. "If you aren't too busy―"_

"_Busy," Booth laughed. "When would I ever be too busy to make love to you?"_

"_I don't know," Brennan said with a slight laugh. "I've seen you awful distracted sometimes."_

"_When?"_

"_Well," she said. "You can be very distracted when food's involved―pie, pizza, candy…"_

"_Candy?" he laughed. "Really?"_

"_Well," she nodded. "You have been on an unusual binge for eating gummy bears and jelly beans, lately, though I'm not quite sure why."_

"_Jelly beans are very tasty," Booth admitted. "But, not as good as you."_

"_Mmmm," Brennan shivered slightly as she felt his hands come to his shirt that clung loosely to her chest and begin to deftly pluck the buttons free._

"_I thought I told you not to go anywhere," he murmured in her ear as he pushed the shirt off her shoulders and it fell to the floor to pool at her feet._

"_Mmmmm, you did," she moaned as he pressed against her and leaned in to cover her mouth with hers. _

"_Naughty," he tsked. "So naughty."_

"_And, you love it," she sighed as she felt his hands begin to roam over her body._

"_Yeah, I do" he grinned. "I really do."_

* * *

><p>By the time that Brennan had stopped talking, the tea that sat before the pair had long ago grown cold. Her throat was scratchy from talking for so long as she explained to Wyatt bits and pieces of what she'd seen.<p>

At last, she looked up at the psychologist and said, "When I was first woke up, I was so tired. But, for the most part―the things I wanted the most were there when I woke up. Booth was there, and he was looking at me like I thought he'd look at me if he were worried that the love of his life had just escaped death's grasp. Then, as time passed, I was still so tired, but my father was there―and Booth. He never left. So, I didn't push too much in the first few days. But, as time passed, and I realized that certain things were just slightly off…I grew suspicious."

"And, so you started to close yourself off," Wyatt said.

Slowly, Brennan nodded. "I was quiet, but I asked what questions I could that seemed as unobtrusive as possible. And, as time went by, I realized that whatever had happened to me…well, when I woke up, I wasn't the same person I was before I fell. All of a sudden, I had these two sets of memories where things seemed to be the same, but they weren't. And, as I waited, I began to get more and more information―and I realized just how much things were different from what I remembered."

"That's a heavy burden to bear," Wyatt told her. "So, you've kept your own counsel and have tried to rectified what you saw with what you know to be the reality of this world."

"I've tried," Brennan said. "But―"

"But, the question now remains―why are you talking about it now?" Wyatt asked gently. "Not to put too delicate a spin on this, but you've spent weeks keeping this to yourself. Why talk now?"

"Because," Brennan said. "I thought I was holding things together, but as more time passes, I'm―I-I…I can't do it anymore. I've got…I've got to try something different because as things have been going, Dr. Wyatt? I just can't do it anymore―I just can't."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - In case some of you may've missed it, for those to whom it would appeal, I posted a completed two-shot this week called "Needing to Confess." It's my tag to 5x14 as to what happened after B&B got coffee at the diner and discussed things like faith and belief. Needless to say it's a fun, little piece of fluffy smut that I'm somewhat proud of…for this piece, coming up next, more therapy, and more of what's shaken Brennan's worldview.~


	11. Ch10:Black Spot and Brigadoon

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see early chapters to reread the picky details.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 10 – Black Spot and Brigadoon<span>

* * *

><p>Once again it was early morning, and once again Brennan found herself on Dr. Gordon Wyatt's patio. This time, however, the pair weren't sitting. Instead, she was standing next to him in front of his rather lovely garden of rose bushes.<p>

"Now you can see why I have a love/hate relationship with these bloody things," he told her as he glanced to where she stood next to him. "I love them when they're blooming prettily and smelling wonderfully rosey, but any time I have to get the work gloves out, I hate the little tossers."

Looking down at her own hands, Brennan said, "It's been so long since I wore any type of gloves that weren't made of latex or nitrile, I think that I've almost forgotten what it was like to wear a solid pair of canvas work gloves."

Smiling at her, Wyatt wryly retorted, "Well, my dear, any time you want to experience the wondrous world of working in the field with a sturdy set of canvas work gloves, feel free to stop by and have a go at these roses because these silly buggers always need work." He chuckled a bit before he paused and then added as he looked over at her, "You know, that's the secret to having a beautiful rose garden―they need three things to thrive: plenty of sunlight, plenty of water, and plenty of constant attention…but only on their terms―otherwise the root system goes all to hell. And, if the root systems go all to hell, then you know it's all over."

Tilting her head, Brennan said, "Meaning?"

"Well," Wyatt clarified. "For example, do you know why we're dumping about twenty gallons of this diluted concentrate we've mixed up here―quite expensively, too, I might add because the cheaper brands aren't worth a damn―as we're about to dump it on the lovelies, here, as I call them."

"You said this was a fungicide of some kind, I believe?" Brennan asked.

"Indeed," Wyatt nodded. "It's to root out the blasted infernal infestation of black spot that blossomed after I got lazy and turned on the sprinklers instead of watering them by hand like I knew I should've done. I knew better, but I was lazy and so the black spot came back."

Giving him a thoughtful look, Brennan responded, "Black spot is a colloquial name for _diplocarpon rosae_, isn't it?"

"Very good," Wyatt nodded. "It's a disease that tends to manifest when the leaves of a rose get unnaturally wet. It begins to weaken the rose by affecting the stalks long before you begin to see the tell-tale black spots polka dot the leaves, starting from the bottom and working it's way up. The fungicide can be used to control it, but there's no way to ever really get rid of it once a rose bush has been infected. Even if you pluck away the infected leaves, and the bush grows new ones that seem perfectly healthy_―_well, with a bit of water that lands in the wrong place during a particularly bad spell of humidity, and the black spot blossoms anew." He paused and took a breath before he added, "If care isn't taken, it can decimate the rose bush and eventually kill it."

Looking over to her left, Brennan nodded at a bush that, despite its infection, seemed to be producing beautiful flowers form the three or four buds that were in various stages of blooming. She frowned as she looked at the majority of the bush's leaves and saw that they were rife with the tell-tale black spots. "This one seems particularly badly infected."

Moving over, Wyatt nodded. "Ahh, yes. That's one of my true beauties…and one of my favorites―even though its one of the biggest bloody pains in the arse in the entire garden."

"What is it?" Brennan asked as she stared at the large bush and inhaled the pungent scent of the blossoms that were staring back at her with their beautiful dark pink edges, light pink inner petals, and pale yellow centers.

"It's called a Brigadoon Rose," Wyatt said simply. "An All American Rose Selection in 1992―lovely, quite lovely."

"Brigadoon?"

"Yes," Wyatt explained. "Named after the village in Alan Learner's 1947 Broadway musical."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that piece of entertainment," Brennan said with a shake of her head.

"Ahh," Wyatt said. "Well, it was quite popular―particularly after Gene Kelly and the delightful Cyd Charisse made it into a movie in 1954. Some of the songs can very enjoyable if they're aren't heard too often in too short a period of time, but all in all, it's quite diverting."

"What's it about?" Brennan asked as she stared at the rose.

"Learner based it on an old German fairy tale called 'Germelshausen' by Friedrich Gerstäcker. The general gist of the plot is that Brigadoon is a mystical village in Scotland that can only be seen for one day every hundred years. But, time passes differently in the village. Eventually, a man name Tommy stumbles across the village on the one day it's visible to the outside world, and he falls in love with a girl from Brigadoon named Fiona. The pair of star-crossed lovers attempt to find a way to be together, but eventually they can't and have to part ways. Tommy leaves and returns home, miserable and alone, wallowing in a funk after he pines for his lost love. Later, he returns to the site of Brigadoon to lament his lost love when he sees the village and is told by one of the its elders that―" Wyatt stopped and changed his voice into a relatively decent imitation of a Scottish drawl: "'You shouldna be too surprised, lad. I told ye when ye love someone deeply enough, anythin' is possible―even miracles.'"

Sighing, Brennan looked at him and said, "I should've known I was walking into something like that, shouldn't I have?"

Smiling, Wyatt merely waited expectantly for her to take her turn speaking.

* * *

><p><em>As the world in which she thought she knew what was left from right, up from down, and right from wrong dramatically shifted in McVicar's barn, there was only one constant that she could latch on to in all the chaos―Booth. Tears welling in her eyes, her vision began to swim as she felt a wave of confusion, hatred, frustration and fear roiled within her. Arms crossed and face tightened in a stubborn instance of what she knew to be the truth, she stared at McVicar as she shook her head slightly and began to reject everything he'd just told her about her mother and father.<em>

"_My name is Brennan," she said emphatically. "I'm Dr.―I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan," she repeated just as much for McVicar's benefit as for her own._ I don't believe you, I don't believe anything you've said. It's all lies―all of it.

_When it became clear that Brennan wasn't being swayed by his tale, McVicar gave her a look of condescending disgust before he shook his head and walked away. However, by that moment, Brennan wasn't even aware that he'd left. She felt the soft fabric of her trench coat as she almost hugged herself and tried to find comfort in what she'd always believed to be irrefutable facts about herself._

_Turning away from Booth, she took several shaky steps as she began to mutter, "I work at the Jeffersonian Institution. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I specialize in identify―" Her voice started to break as she shook her head and then quickly wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Shaking her head once again, she forced herself to continue repeating the litany of vital statistics about who she thought she was. "―in identifying…in identifying people when nobody knows who they are. My father was a science teacher. My mother was a bookkeeper―" An image of her mother swum in front of her, and as she pictured her mother, her cracked voice trailed off as the tears that had been flowing down her cheeks increased in speed and quantity. Her words were coming in stinted clumps through her tears as she tried to continue speaking, reassuring herself that she knew who she was. "My brother―" Again, Brennan tried to wipe away the tears, but they were to numerous to get rid of with a simple swipe of the hand. As soon as she cleared her field of vision, a new wave of tears replaced the ones she'd just gotten rid of, increasing her frustration ten-fold. "I have a brother―" She didn't hear so much as sense Booth's movement as he came up beside her. Repeating the single sentence, she tried to reassert control over her life and being. "I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan."_

_Coming up beside her, Booth ached to touch her. But, he also knew that taking such control away from her was the last thing he needed to do. Instead, he gave her a better gift―confirmation of what she kept repeating as if saying a prayer to be the truth of the world in which they lived._

"_I know who you are," he reassured her. As he watched the tears continue to flow, he silently willed her to turn to him, knowing that he couldn't go to her until she'd met him half way. However, as she persisted in her crying, some of Booth's resolve crumbled as his fingers ached to touch her. Unable to help himself, he gently reached out and brushed her arm with his extremely light touch just to remind her of his presence. "Hey," he said quietly. "I know."_

_As soon as he'd touched her, like a loadstone, she was drawn to him. In only the span of a few seconds, Brennan immediately turned and reached out to him, desperate for the refuge and solace her offered her. Like he was a life preserver―the only thing standing between her and oblivion―she clung to him. Allowing her to be pulled into his strong and comforting arms, she tightened her hold on him, wrapping her hands around his neck as he held her tight and whispered comforting words in her ear. _

"_It's okay," he murmured as he felt her body convulse and the cries that choked her body began in earnest. "Shhhhh," he whispered, as he gently rocked her from side to side. "It's gonna be alright," he vowed. "I promise, Bones. I swear_―_you'll see. It'll be okay. I promise. I'll make it okay. I will__―__I swear I will. Everything's going to be okay."_

_Crying at the sweetness and simplicity of his words, she shook her head slightly against the crook of his neck. "You don't know that," she managed to utter through her sobs._

"_Yes," he insisted, moving his hand up and down her back in a comforting manner. "Of course, I do."_

"_No," she whispered. "Nothing―everything…this changes everything."_

"_No, it doesn't," he said. "You're still you. You're still my partner. You're still the same woman you were when you woke up today. Nothing that asshole douchebag says can change that. He can't change who you are."_

"_I'm not―" she murmured. "I'm not the same. I'm not."_

"_In every important way―in every way that counts, yes_―_yes, you are," he insisted. "Yes, you are."_

_"No_―_"_

"_Hey," he said, pulling back from her slightly. Letting his arms fall away from where they'd held her in a firm embrace, he brought his hand up to cup her chin. Lifting her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face to meet his strong and firm gaze, he said, "Listen―you're still the same woman that woke up in my arms this morning, and God-willing, you're the same woman that I'm going to take home, make love to tonight, and fall asleep with once we're done. It doesn't matter what your name is…Keenan, Brennan...Joy, Temperance―none of that matters. You're still whom you've always been to me."_

"_Bones?" she whispered, her voice barely audible as she breathed the word._

_A flush of warm reassurance light his eyes as he nodded slowly, "Yeah."_

"_I'm still you're partner," she said. "I still―I still have you."_

"_Never doubt it, baby," he grinned at her as he leaned into give her a gentle kiss on lips that she'd chewed raw in nervousness and anxiety over the past few days. Before he reached forward to press his lips to hers, he breathed, "Never doubt it."_

_Booth knew he'd said the right words as soon as she reached out, and in a surprising display of confidence and strength, she reached out and pulled him to her again. Their kiss was harder and more intense than he'd meant for it to be. But, since it appeared that was what Brennan needed from him, he knew he couldn't deny her anything in that moment. And, when she finally pulled away from him, letting her chin rest of his shoulder, she wrapped her arms around his waist. _

_Quietly, in a voice so low that it was almost hard from him to hear what she was saying―even though her mouth was no more than an inch or two from his ear― she told him, "You're all I have left."_

"_You know that's not true," he breathed. "You have your friends, and work, and everything―"_

"_No," she said, a trace of her normal stubbornness coming into her voice. "None of it matters―none of it matters like you do."_

"_Bones―"_

"_I-I…you're important to me," she breathed. "More important than I ever thought another person could be to me. You're…I never thought I'd ever say this, but I-I…I think… I-I…I think love you, Booth."_

_He stopped, almost feeling as if his heart had ceased to function, and his breath caught in his throat as she pulled away from her slightly. His stunned brown eyes eagerly sought out her red and swollen ones. _

"_What?" he mouthed._

"_I'm not sure what love is," she said. "But, if this isn't it―if what I feel for you isn't it, I don't know logically what else it could be," she told him quietly. "That's why…I think I love you."_

_Suddenly, just as much as McVicar had turned her world upside not fifteen minutes before, Booth turned it right side up again with the smile he gave her. As he reached for her and answered her statement with one of the most soul-searing kisses they'd ever shared, Brennan suddenly felt that it didn't matter what her name was. All that mattered was that she was who she was, they were together, and she loved him―and those were the only important things in the world she'd just made for them both._

* * *

><p><em>As they walked to the crime scene, Brennan took a deep breath. Although it was night, and chaos surrounded them as emergency workers and law enforcement officials scurried around the site of the train derailment, Brennan couldn't deny it was good to be back.<em>

"_What'd you do?" Booth asked, as he tried to steer her in the right direction of the remains for which she'd been called to the scene._

"_I read, walked on the beach, chilled―" Brennan said, with a half arched eyebrow as she recalled how lonely the beach house in North Carolina had seemed after he'd left._

"_You chilled," Booth smirked. "In Darfur―you chilled in Darfur."_

"_In North Carolina," she reminded him, knowing that she was now being teased. "Remember? Beach house? Six weeks off so that I could spend some time with Russ?"_

"_Yeah," Booth grinned as he purposely knocked into her as they walked, desperate as he was to touch her again, even though it had only been a week since he'd been back without her. "I seem to vaguely recall something about that."_

_As she gave him a playful sway of her hips in response to when he'd knocked into her, she said in a quiet tone of voice, "I just bet you would."_

"_Three weeks was a long time ago, Bones," Booth said through a cheeky smile._

"_You've only been back a week," Brennan countered. "Don't tell me the memory problems are starting in already."_

"_Hey," he said as he gestured with his hands. "I'll have you know it's been a very busy week. I've had a lot of crap to work through since I was gone―"_

"_For two weeks," Brennan countered. "You were only gone for two weeks. I've been gone for much longer, and―"_

_Reaching out for her, Booth couldn't help himself as he snaked his arm around her waist, pulled her behind the side of one of the parked standard-issue black government SUVs, and kissed her. Melting into his touch for a minute, she reluctantly pulled away with a tsking noise._

"_Booth―"_

"_What?" he growled._

"_Remains―" Brennan said with an arched eyebrow. "Remember?"_

"_I remember," he said with a frustrated sigh. "That's while we're here instead of back at your place in bed now isn't it?"_

_Placing a light kiss on his jaw, Brennan quickly wiggled away as she took a few steps back towards the direction in which they'd been walking. "You know," she said as she nodded at him. "One would almost think that during the two weeks we were at the beach that we weren't having sex multiple times each and every day."_

_Giving her an aww-shucks look, Booth fell into step beside her as he said, "What can I say? I'm insatiable."_

"_You can say that again," Brennan chuckled as they resumed walking._

_Trying to clear his head, he nodded at her, "So, you get things straight with Russ before you left?"_

"_Yes," Brennan nodded. "Russ and I talked about it, and we really want to find Dad."_

_Remembering their prior conversations, Booth frowned a bit as he said, "No, okay―well just so you know, the FBI is going to find your father, no matter what you want."_

"_My brother and I don't want the FBI to backburner its search," Brennan said as she gave him a questioning look._

_As they made a sharp left turn, the epicenter of the train derailment came into view. "Wow," she said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of gloves and snapped them on. "You weren't kidding when you said this one was a big one."_

"_Nope," Booth said. They stared for a minute before Booth nodded at her and returned to their earlier topic of conversation. "Okay, Bones, why don't you have a little, uh, you know, faith in me, okay?" She arched an eyebrow at him, but not to be put off, Booth continued. "I'm not gonna back-burner the case all right? I'm gonna…find your father."_

_Recalling how much tension still existed between the pair once Russ had found out the extent of Booth's personal relationship to his sister, Brennan couldn't resist teasing him slightly as she maintained a straight face and said completely deadpanned, "My brother said you'd say that."_

_Booth, knowing what she was trying to do, merely smirked as he responded with a bit of a grumble in his voice, "You really keep saying 'my brother' a lot."_

"_Well," she began. "I lost Russ for fifteen years. I like the sound of it. …my brother." She paused as she nodded at him, shifting once again into business mode.  
><em>

_Suddenly his romantic partner was no longer in front of him, and his forensic anthropologist professional partner was all who remained. "Now," she said. "Why am I here?" _

_As her eyes scanned the area, she quickly picked out where Zack was working near a strange woman that she didn't recognize even though she was clad in a Jeffersonian navy field suit. _

"_Who's that?" she wondered out loud._

_When Booth's eyes darted to where Brennan's gaze was focused, he nodded and said, "Ahh, yeah, Bones―about that…while we were gone, there may have been some changes that I kinda/sorta just found out about. I was going to tell you earlier, but―"_

_Booth's words were cut off as the unfamiliar woman lifted a severed limb into the air and called out, "Stan! I need some gauze. Danny? You don't find the owner of this in the next ten minutes, he'll bleed to death. Starting…now."_

_Shooting Booth a look, Brennan didn't have time to get in a word edgewise before the same strange woman spotted the pair and walked forward, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips as she called out a greeting to them both._

* * *

><p><em>In what had been an exhausting span of weeks, all Brennan wanted to do was have an opportunity to seclude herself in Limbo with her remains and work uninterrupted. She then desired to return home each evening to Booth's waiting arms before the process began all over again in the morning. The constant butting of metaphorical horns with Dr. Camille Saroyan in the lab had been very tiring for her. Combined with the woman's constant flirting with Booth―and the reemergence of Rebecca's intractability about the custody arrangement with Parker―Brennan was on a short fuse by the time the case with Lawrence Seaver came up in their caseload. <em>

_As his wives continued to bicker in Booth's office, Brennan had jumped at the chance when Booth's eyes had darted to hers when he asked if anyone wanted a soda. She had left the office to head to the breakroom to retrieve some coffee and water for those who wanted it. She stopped mid-stride, however, when she saw the familiar visage of Booth's ex striding towards his office._

"_Dr. Brennan," Rebecca said with a nod. "I know that Seeley's busy, but I wanted to try to catch him for a moment. I wanted to tell him something that maybe can save us some time about Parker...make things a bit easier without the lawyers around, you know?"_

_Brennan frowned as she glanced at the group of people gathered in Booth's office. "Now isn't the best of times, Rebecca."_

_The pair chatted for a few more minutes as Brennan vaguely explained the details of the case that was now demanding Booth's attention. Rebecca, one who had always been a bit uneasy around Brennan, quickly made her excuses and left once she'd asked the forensic anthropologist to have her partner give her a call. Brennan, still tired, was about to resume her way to the breakroom to retrieve the beverages for which she originally left Booth's office when a thought occurred to her. Suddenly, she took a step towards the elevators where Rebecca was waiting._

_Nodding at her, Brennan said, "Hey."_

_Turning around, Rebecca tilted her head. "Dr. Brennan?"_

"_Can I ask you something?" Brennan said, stepping towards her. "Why did you say no?"_

_A look of confusion crossed Rebecca's face as she considered Brennan's question. Shaking her head slightly to ask for clarification, Rebecca asked, "Excuse me?"_

"_When he asked you to marry him?" Brennan responded, almost as if Rebecca were aware of her inner dialogue and the nature of the question she'd asked was self-evident. "I mean, he seems an ideal candidate. Strong, alpha male, good protective instincts."_

_At Brennan's words, a hard look came onto Rebecca's face. "And, I should discuss this with you why?"_

"_Because," Brennan said. "I asked―and it's a simple question."_

"_Well," Rebecca responded after a few seconds heavily pregnant with pause. "Have you asked Seeley?"_

"_No," Brennan said. "I don't―that is, the question hadn't occurred to me until just this minute. Of course, I would ask Booth―it's just that you're here and he's not, and even if he were here…it's just- I'm not sure he knows. And… I think it bothers him."_

_Moving to the side of the elevators, Rebecca nodded at Brennan to follow her. Taking a breath, she then began, "I've always taken care of myself―to a fault, sometimes. And, we got pregnant, Seeley proposed. But, I didn't want to be one of those women who gets married out of need, so I said no."_

_Brennan, well aware of the type of things Booth wanted in life and her own thoughts on their relationship, nodded slowly. "I can see that."_

"_By the time that I realized I'd made a mistake… that I'd still be the same person―" She stopped as her eyes took on a far away look. Her voice trailed off as she became lost in her memories for almost a minute. At last, she looked back at Brennan and said in a quiet voice, "I think there's a moment for two people. A single moment where they can either catch fire, or―" She paused again for breath as she raised her gaze to meet Brennan's inquiring look. "Seeley and I, we missed our moment." She nodded again at her. "Do you understand?"_

"_I'm trying," Brennan said. "I really am. But, it's hard. He doesn't…he doesn't like to talk about the past a lot―about you, what happened between you, too. It bothers him, though―I can tell."_

"_Seeley's a great guy," Rebecca told her. "You're very lucky to have him, to have the chance to be with him."_

"_I know that," Brennan responded. "He's…he's everything to me."_

"_Then, don't make the same mistake I made," Rebecca said. "When the chance comes, you need to grab it with both hands and fight with everything you have to hold on to it―hold on to him―for as long as you can. Don't stop fighting, don't give up…no matter what happens."_

"_I wouldn't," Brennan said. "But, you have to understand…with you―why it bothers him. I think…it's different than it is between us."_

"_How so?" Rebecca asked._

_Thinking back on their vague conversations they'd had―and the rare opportunities when Brennan had been able to get Booth to mention something about his past relationship with Rebecca― she kept coming back to one thing: Parker. "I think Booth thinks you didn't marry him because he wouldn't make a good father," she said at last._

_The look of confusion that had earlier graced Rebecca's face returned as she quickly asked, "What?"_

"_He worries about it himself, you know," Brennan said thoughtfully. "What he does for a living. His past as a sniper."_

_Considering her words, as soon as Rebecca realized their significance, she paled a bit as she said, "Oh, God." She paused and then said, "Uhhhh, do me a favor? Don't tell him that I came by, okay? Please. I'll―I'll take care of things, okay? Just…give me a chance?"_

_Slowly, Brennan nodded as Rebecca turned and then proceeded to walk away in the direction of the stairs._

* * *

><p><em>A couple of days later, Booth sat on the edge of the couch in Brennan's office. They were discussing the final conversation that he'd had with Rebecca about their past conversation.<em>

"_You know what, Bones? It might be all anthropology to you, but there are certain people that you just can't sleep with―" He paused and shook his head. "I mean, you can pretend that it's just sex. You can lie to yourself, and you can say that it's all good. But, um, there's just…there's too many strings and―and too much at stake, you know? Too much to lose."_

_She tilted her head as she juggled the file she was holding in her hand. As she considered his words, for some reason, she repeated the exact same phrase she'd said to Rebecca during their conversation on the topic of their respective relationships with Booth. "Yeah, I can see that."_

_As he stood up, he walked over and gave her a smile, "It's over, you know? I'd appreciate, you know, your support in that."_

_Recognizing the smile for what it was, Brennan set the file folder on the coffee table and slid into his open and waiting arms. Pressing her body up against his, she wrapped her arms around his back as she said, "I will. And, if you should slip, I will…keep my mouth shut about it."_

_Holding her tightly, as he began to stroke her back up and down in a rhythmic gesture, he murmured into her air, "Thank you. But, I mean, it's not like I'm gonna―"_

_Pulling away from him, she arched an eyebrow at him as she looked at him and said, "No, I mean with anybody. I'm sure Rebecca's not your only option for satisfying your biological urges."_

"_Mmmmm," he said, his voice gravelly with desire as he still let his hands rest lightly on her hips. "Oh, so, you're making me an offer I can't refuse there, huh?"_

_"No," Brennan grinned. "Just letting you know that__―__for Parker's sake__―__I don't want to have to kill Rebecca and make the body disappear so there wouldn't be a proper funeral."_

_Chuckling, Booth shook his head as he said, "You know, Bones, even after all this time, it's still cute as hell when you get all territorial about me. It's sorta...hot."_

"_Well, it's not like you can blame me," Brennan muttered. "_At one point, she wanted you back_. And, it's taken her an awfully damn long time to get it through her head that you and I are seeing one another in a long-term monogamous romantic sense."_

_Booth chuckled, and Brennan shot him a look at his impertinence._

"_You know it's true," Brennan insisted. "Particularly in the first month or two after I came back from Guatemala."_

_Again, Booth grinned, but said nothing to concede the point.  
><em>

_"Booth, you can't tell me that it's a coincidence that she kept calling you after midnight at odd intervals," Brennan continued.  
><em>

"_That's because she was making a booty call, Bones," Booth snickered. "It's called a booty call."_

"_So, when a female calls a male after midnight, it can be assumed she's doing so with the expectation of soliciting sexual favors?" Brennan asked, her curiosity clearly peaked._

"_Mmmm hmmmm," Booth responded._

_Laughing, she said, "I'll have to remember that tonight." As she gave him another look, Booth had no doubt that she'd do exactly that._

* * *

><p>As she finished recounting another bit of the missing puzzle of her other life, Wyatt stared at her and waited for her to get her thoughts in order, knowing she would speak when ready. After a couple of minutes of silence, as he'd anticipated, she looked over at him from where they'd taken up residence on the wrought iron bench near the white picket fence that marked the edge of the garden's confines.<p>

"You know," she began slowly. "When I woke up, and I started to look for answers, I asked Dr. Hodgins to bring me my laptop. I-I…I've always kept files that contain basic field notes of investigations in which I've participated."

"And, you thought that by reading though these journals that you'd gain some type of clarity?" he asked quietly.

"I wouldn't really call them journals," Brennan answered as she shook her head. "The notations are very factual―terse even. They rarely contain any personal information―no commentary or individual thoughts…feelings…or beliefs."

"Yet," Wyatt said gently. "You continued to read them?"

"Yes," Brennan whispered.

"And, as you continued to read them, their contents destabilized what was already a worldview established on a sandy foundation after you'd awoken?" Wyatt questioned her.

"Yes," Brennan told him simply.

He was silent for a moment before he asked, "Why?"

Almost as if she'd expected the question, Brennan answered instantly, "The woman who wrote those entries―" She stopped, her voice trailing off again before she took a breath and continued. "When I was a little girl, I always feared turning into this lonely, cold, unfeeling, frigid woman who never really lived her life. Each day, she would wake up, get dressed, do her job, come home, eat dinner, watch the news, get ready for bed, and start the whole sad, sorry process all over again until she died one day. She'd die one day, all alone―unloved, unmarried, and forgotten because she was too scared to let people get close to her." The sincerity of emotion in her voice was clear as she narrowed her eyes as she looked at the psychologist and said, "I swore I would never let that happen to me."

"That's why you've always been driven to be the best at all you attempt," Wyatt mused.

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "After all," she said with a bit of her normal bravado coming into her voice. "The best is never forgotten."

"But?" Wyatt asked, sensing there was something more to what she had left to tell him.

"But," Brennan continued, confirming his suspicion once again. "Despite how I vowed never to become that woman, when I first met Booth five years ago, that's exactly the woman I had become."

"And?" he prodded her gently.

"And," Brennan said, swallowing once as she felt a knot of emotion come into her throat. "The more I read those case notes, the more I realized that the woman who'd written them?" She stopped, shook her head, took a breath, and then plowed forward. "She wasn't me, but she was this fearful stranger who hated one of the best things that she'd ever been fortunate enough to have come into her life. I read my early case notes from the time when I met and first started to work with Booth. It took me a year―a damn _year_ to be able to stomach him long enough to be able to be in the same room with him after our first case…and that only happened because he came back for me. If he hadn't―" she stopped and shook her head again. "She threw it away," Brennan said in a small voice tinged with self-loathing and a hint of self-disgust. "She threw away one of the best things that ever happened to her with both hands and never looked back and all in the name of her damn sacred imperviousness."

"And, now, you think that that's all that's left to you when you're in this time and place having known the joys of what you could've had if you'd embarked on a romantic relationship with Agent Booth?" Wyatt surmised. "That's one of the reasons why you're feeling overwhelmed…despondent, and dare I say, more than a tad bit lost."

Lifting her clear blue gaze to meet his, Brennan slowly nodded at his perceptive comments. "Yes," she told him before pausing for breath. When she spoke again, she added, "And, I don't know how to handle that. I don't want to be _her_. I can't."

Nodding, slowly, Wyatt finally said, "Well, my dear, remember what that dear misanthrope Tommy Albright said in _Brigadoon_."

"And, what's that?"

"Why do you have to _lose_ something, to find out what it _really_ means?" Wyatt said with a slight nod and a heavy heart as he contemplated how best to help the battered woman who sat in front of him.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - Gordon Gordon isn't quite done sharing all those interesting factoids of which he seems to be so conveniently aware on such a diverse number of subjects. Still to come, a bit more of Brennan's alternate world as we march toward what _really_ shook her―it's coming shortly, I promise.~


	12. Ch11:Bittersweet Recall

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 11 – Bittersweet Recall<span>

* * *

><p>The morning air was heavy with moisture. Brennan stood just outside the French doors which Wyatt had opened. He came up behind her and handed her a mug of steaming liquid. Brennan quirked an eyebrow as she took the cup, and her eyes confirmed to her what her olfactory senses had hinted to her was the cup's contents.<p>

"What?" Wyatt said as he raised his own cup to his lips. "While it's true, I do prefer tea like most sensible denizens of the British isles have since the eighteenth century, on a frightful morning like this, I don't think tea is going to cut it unless we add some spirits to it―which is an idea I'm not necessarily against, by the way, if that's what you want." Although his demeanor remained deadpan, a crinkle at the edge of his eyebrows told Brennan that he was teasing her once again.

However, perhaps because of the depressing weather―or maybe because she knew the next part of the story she needed to tell him―Brennan couldn't bring herself to respond to his small attempt to lighten the situation.

"Coffee's fine," she said as she lifted the mug to her lips and took a small sip of the bitter liquid. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, my dear, quite welcome," Wyatt said with a nod. Gesturing towards the inside, he then said, "Since I'm not certain the weather will cooperate with the maintenance of our normal morning routine, I've left the doors open just in case we need to seek refuge from this ghastly weather." He paused, looked around at the drab fog that was rolling in, and made a face. "It almost makes me feel as if I'm back in London―and I don't mean that in a good way, either."

"London can be very foggy," Brennan murmured her agreement, remembering suddenly flashes of a trip that she'd read about having taken there with Booth only a few months before her accident.

"Don't I know it," Wyatt said. He stopped and then tilted his head as he added, "Of course, I don't know how to feel about fog. Like my relationship with the lovelies, I've got mixed feelings about it all."

"A love/hate relationship again?" Brennan asked with an arched eyebrow. "With a simple weather phenomena that occurs because liquid water droplets are suspended in the air near the Earth's surface and manifest in this way?" She gestured vaguely at the space between them.

"Indeed," Wyatt explained. "Fog…it can be both a mysteriously alluring and deathly destructive thing."

"Why?" Brennan asked.

"Because," he continued. "On one hand, it can hide things…giving situations an air of grandeur since one may or may not be able to see what's really there. The imagination can run wild as people think about what may or may not be out there. It's almost romantic in the thoughts and feelings it can evoke." He stopped, took a breath, and then told her, "But, on the other hand, it can also be pervasive…cloaking what so desperately needs to be seen by some and making what seems lost forever never able to be found when one can actually be a lot closer to finding what they seek than they ever realized. As I said," he paused, took another sip of coffee and then shrugged, "A double edged-sword, I think."

"Memories are like that," Brennan said slowly. "Remembering―it can be both a good and a bad thing."

"It's never the remembering, my dear, that's the good or bad part," Wyatt said gently, knowing Brennan was close to being able to resume her tale. "It's all what you do with the remembering that's the positive or negative in this world."

Nodding, Brennan took what comfort she could in his words and once more began to speak.

* * *

><p><em>As Brennan stood in front of the television that she had turned to the local news channel, she frowned as she listened to the story about the case which they'd just solved.<em>

"_Vegas authorities have arrested Nick Arno―along with his father, Tangiers Casino gaming executive, Peter Arno, otherwise known as Sweet Pete, in connection with the murder five years ago of prosecutor Mason Roberts, among others," the television reporter continued to drone on as the b-roll footage of Arno's arrest played on the screen._

_Her frown deepening, Brennan felt a flash of anger again as she turned to look at Booth and said, "Among others?" Taking the TV remote, she clicked it off with the disgust she felt clearly evident in her motions. "Is that what Billie Morgan is to these people? 'Others'?"_

_Seeing her frustration for what it was, Booth slowly stood up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of their king-sized bed using a cold can of beer from the minibar to ice his bruised face. Walking to where she stood next to her side of the bed, fussing with her last minute packing as she was, he said gently, "It's day one Bones, relax." He paused, hoping to give his words emphasis, but even as she heard them, he knew they were futile. Deciding that a different tack might prove more effective, Booth said, "You know what? Billie―Billie's gonna have her story told. It's just a matter of time." Taking another step towards her, he nodded when they were only a foot or two apart. Giving her a small smile, he asked, "So what was the, uh, second reason?"_

_A look of confusion fell across Brennan's face as she considered his question. "What?"_

_Tilting his head at her, he clarified, "Uhhh, you never told me the second reason why, uhh, why you bet on me."  
><em>

_As comprehension dawned on her, Brennan flushed a bit before she looked away with a small shake of her head. "Yeah, it was...silly."_

_Raising his hand to her head, he gently tilted her chin so that she was looking at him. Smiling at her in as warm and reassuring way as he could manage, Booth cajoled her, "Well, come on." Gently stroking her jaw line, once he was certain she wouldn't look away, he added encouragingly, "Try me."  
><em>

_Nodding once, Brennan began to answer, her voice still soft and gentle and more pliable than it was with just about anyone else in the world. "Beginner's Luck," she explained simply. "I haven't lost at anything since I've been here. So, well, I…I figured if I bet on you, then―"_

"_I couldn't lose," Booth finished the sentence for her with a soft, but pleased look on his face._

_Nodding again, Brennan said, "Sounds silly, right?"_

_He held her gaze for several long seconds before he hook his head to answer her question. "It sounds familiar." She smiled at his words. "Thanks," he added as he leaned in to place a light kiss on her cheek._

"_You're welcome," Brennan sighed with contentment. "I just suppose I should be glad, all things considered, that we decided to go to Reno before we came to Vegas instead of waiting until afterwards like I originally suggested."_

"_Oh," Booth grinned. "Why's that?"_

"_Because," Brennan said as she lifted a hand and gently traced a line with her index finger just below where his split lip was still healing. "At least now our wedding pictures won't have you looking like you just got into a bar fight like some common hooligan."_

"_Got into a bar fight and won, Bones," Booth gently corrected her with a light laugh. "Got into a bar fight and won."_

"_My hero," Brennan murmured as she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him._

"_And, ya know what? Here I was thinking the only reason I got you to agree to go there on the way was because you finally saw the light, and I convinced just how awesome being Mrs. Seeley Booth actually is," he snickered. "Of course, the only thing that might've made the whole thing even more awesome was if we managed to get Lieutenant Dangle and Officer Junior to have been our witnesses, but I guess beggars can't be choosers, huh?"_

_A look came over Brennan as she tilted her head and said, "I was unaware that you were that close to any members of the law enforcement community in Reno that you would've wished to―" _

_A slight snickering that Booth made gave him away. _

_Instantly, Brennan stopped and shot him a stern look. "You're not talking about actual people are you?_

_Slowly, Booth shook his head, his snickering now segueing into an actual chuckle._

_"You're aren't talking about that silly satirical hyperbolic take on the Reno police department that you make me watch on television when we're home on Sunday nights, are you?" she questioned him with a furrowed brow._

_This time, Booth's chuckle transitioned to a full out laugh as he slowly nodded once more._

_"You know what," Brennan said, wagging her finger at him. "You better just be glad that I love you as much as I do, or else―"_

_"What?" he snickered, "I'm not doing my duty as your partner and husband if I don't make certain to balance out all that NatGeo/Discovery Channel/TLC crap you make me watch. Consider it a part of your required pop culture training. I gotta keep you sharp, after all."  
><em>

"_Hmmmph," she replied. "I don't remember that part being in the vows, you know," Brennan observed dryly. After a moment or two, where Booth continued to give her a look that told her he was still quite pleased with himself, Brennan arched an eyebrow and wagged her finger at him again. "Now, be honest, Booth," Brennan clucked as she slightly frowned at him. "The real reason you wanted to go to Reno first is because you thought I might change my mind."_

"_No―" Booth immediately began to protest, the earlier self-pleased look instantly vanishing. "That's not it at all."  
><em>

_Brennan shot him another look, under which he quickly crumpled. _

_Shaking his head lightly, he said, "Okay. Fine. Maybe a little bit." Brennan's frown immediately turned into a very pleased smile as she rewarded her husband with another nuzzle of her soft lips against his jaw. "Uhh, yeah. Maybe it was a little bit―but just a little bit, mind you―"_

_As she continued to kiss him, a small part of Booth's mind reminded him that they were on a schedule and needed to get to the airport. _

"_Ahh, Bones," he said, as what little blood that remained in his brain was quickly leaving for more southern locales. "Baby, we've got a flight to catch, remember?"_

_When her hand snaked under his jacket, pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans, and she began to rake her nails up and down his back lightly, thoughts of making their return flight back to D.C. quickly left his mind._

"_Aww, fuck it," Booth groaned, as he turned and fully pressed himself against his wife's taut body. "It's our honeymoon, after all."_

_Brennan's only answer was a throaty chuckle that echoed in the room as Booth turned and happily pushed her back down onto the bed._

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm going to find that son-of-a-bitch and kill him if it's the last thing I do," Booth breathed into her ear, as he rested his chin lightly on her shoulder.<em>

_At her insistence, they'd returned to his apartment. It was a small thing, really, given the hell she'd been through in the past twenty-four hours. In the haste that had resulted in their impromptu marriage, many logistical decisions still hadn't been made―such as where they'd live, and so for the time being, they continued to split their time between his apartment and hers until they decided how best to proceed with telling everyone from their family and friends to the FBI about the change in the nature of their relationship. So, all in all, returning to his apartment instead of hers was a small thing that he could do for her, as was turning on all the lights and setting the A/C compressor fan on his window unit so that it was turned 'on' instead of set on 'auto'. The constant circulation of air, as was the large amount of illumination, not surprisingly was a comfort to her. And, as Booth thought on the reasons why, it made him even angrier._

"_He almost took you away from me," he breathed. "I almost lost you because of that evil, hellacious fuckwad, and I want to kill him for that―painfully."_

"_I know," she said, as she leaned into his warmth. _

"_I'm going to do it," Booth said he tightened his grip on her. "I swear it―if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to find him and make him suffer and pay for what he did to you."_

"_I know you will," Brennan sighed. "And, I love you for feeling that protective of me―I do."_

_The pair sat in his bed, Booth reclining against the headboard, his legs bent and open, allowing Brennan to snuggle in between them. His arms were wrapped around her waist. Even though it was the middle of the night―close to 4:30 in the morning―neither one wanted to sleep. Booth sat clothed in a dark blue t-shirt, pair of plaid boxers, and multi-colored stripped socks while Brennan had dressed in one of his light-grey Phillies t-shirts and a simple pair of white cotton panties that she'd put on after she'd carefully taken a bath. Because of the ointment and bandages that the doctor at the ER had placed on the back of her neck to soothe the sting of the cattle prod with which she'd been hit, Brennan hadn't been able to wash her hair when she bathed. It frustrated her a bit, since her hair had been dirty with the sweat and dust of her grueling experience. Booth eventually had come to her rescue by getting a wet towel and pressing it to her hair as best he could. Once her damp tresses seemed a bit better, he carefully sprayed some leave-in conditioner that he normally used on his own hair just to make it smell different for her than it had. Now, her hair hung in a loose ponytail, and the pair sat waiting as Booth hoped he'd be able to get Brennan to take one of the mild painkillers that the doctor had prescribed for her so that she'd be able to sleep if nothing else._

"_No," she whispered, almost as if she could hear his thoughts. "It's not happening, Booth."_

"_Bones―" he said softly, knowing he was going to fight a losing battle with her, but knew that he still had to try. "You've got to sleep."_

"_And, I will," Brennan promised. "I will, eventually―" She stopped and then, a bit of the fight going out of her, she added, "I just can't…I don't want to take anything that's going to drug me. I don't want to feel that way right now. I need to…I just need to feel in control of my body…my senses. As long as you're here with me, I promise―I'll fall asleep eventually. I will. I promise I will. Just, please―don't make me take it, okay? I'll fall asleep. As long as you're here with me, I will. I promise."_

"_I'm not leaving you," he reassured her with a light squeeze of his arms. "I'm never leaving you―not ever."_

"_I know," she sighed in contentment as she leaned back into his embrace again. "I know. And, that makes me love you more than I already do."_

"_I just―" Booth's voice trailed off. His eyes darted to the bedside table where his Glock sat on the bedside table, clip still loaded, and within easy reach of his grasp. "I just…I can't stand it that he almost took you away from me."_

"_But, he didn't," Brennan sighed, as she closed her eyes and let his reassuring warmth flow back into her. "He didn't. You found me because you were better than he was. You found me, and you save me… just like I knew you would."_

"_I didn't have a choice," Booth said simply, a bit of strain coming into his voice as he spoke. "I had to because…I don't know what I would do if I lost you."_

"_But, you didn't," she responded as she tilted her head and looked at him over her shoulder. "I'm right here, Booth."_

"_I know that," he said. "I know that…I just―I just can't tell you how goddamn scared I was."_

"_I know," she replied. "I was, too."_

"_I can't―" Booth's voice trailed off. "I can do whatever you need me to do, but I don't know what I'll do if I ever lose you."_

"_You won't," she said, this time finding it mildly amusing that she was the one who was comforting him. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."_

"_Now, you're just saying that," Booth laughed. "Since we both know―"_

_Tilting her head around, suddenly Brennan interrupted Booth by slipping her tongue into his mouth. The kiss was soft and gentle, and after a few seconds, they pulled apart. _

_Smiling, as she was quite pleased with herself, Brennan nodded at him and said, "There. I like that part."_

"_What part?" Booth replied with an arched eye._

"_The part where your tongue was kissing me just like it always has," Brennan explained. "It, apparently, doesn't know any difference between when you were sticking it in my mouth yesterday versus right now, and I find that not only very reassuring, but very, very appealing."_

_Reaching up, he gently stroked her cheek with the callused pad of his thumb as he said, "Is that your way of telling me something, huh?"_

"_I think," Brennan said tentatively. "I would like it very much if you'd stop treating me as if I were made of some fragile material. I'm not constructed of glass, Booth. I won't break if you do more than hold me in your arms, stroke my cheek with your thumbs, and kiss my forehead with your lips."_

_Booth arched an eyebrow as he watched another, albeit familiar, look come into Brennan's eyes._

"_Besides," she stopped as she lifted an eyebrow at him. "After the release of endorphins that occurs when a female orgasms, it's been scientifically proven that she'll be in a more relaxed state as compared to how she was prior to when she came."_

"_Is that so?" Booth said, his eyes darkening a bit as they suddenly realized that each one knew exactly of what the other was speaking. _

"_And, if I'm in a more relaxed state, it stands to reason that I'll have an increased chance of falling asleep like you want me to, so―"_

"_So," Booth said, a playful look coming into his eyes. "This is your way of using squintiness and logic to try and convince me to have sex with you?"_

"_Sex as compared to making love, yes," she clarified. "Because…I don't want to be treated gently right now, Booth. I just want you…"_

"_Want me?" he prompted her when he noticed her voice had trailed off._

"_I just want you to treat me like you always have," Brennan said. "I really need things to be normal between us, right now―just like they always've been. Please?"_

_Booth held her pleading gaze for a full moment before he slowly nodded―as if there were actually anything he'd deny her. Brennan's face became awash in delight and eager anticipation. Booth, for his part, tapped her shoulder before she shifted, and said, "If it's not comfortable to lay down because of your neck, maybe you should be on top―ya know, so you can take the lead and set the pace?"_

"_Or," Brennan said with a suggestive glint coming into her eye. "I can think of another position where you can still thrust into me without concern about the way in which my neck is resting against a prone surface._

_Booth arched an eyebrow again as Brennan shifted in the bed, stood up on her knees, and reached for the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. Tugging it up and off of her head, she quickly threw it on the ground. Booth's hands snaked around her waste as she pressed her body against his face, his chin nuzzling the lower cleft between her full and heavy breasts._

"_Touch me," she whispered, a half-plea, a half-statement of encouragement as she closed her eyes and for once wasn't afraid that she wouldn't be able to open them again if she did so. _

_Somehow, in between her plea of want and need, and his desire to provide and protect, clothes quickly disappeared. His shirt followed the one she had already taken off as did her panties before his boxers and socks found their ways to the floor. Although he intended his movements to be gentle, once she'd maneuvered them so that she was on all fours in front of him, moaning his name―with each look, with each short sigh or satisfied groan, with each expert touch of a knowledgeable tongue or nimble finger tips…each small circumstance pushed him further from gentleness. She was more than ready when he finally brought his stiff cock to her wet entrance, circling it once, twice, three times against the swollen perfection that beckoned him forward. In that moment, it was almost too much for him._

"_I love you" he murmured as he slid into her, feeling his little self-restraint crumbling each inch he came closer in being seated in her to the hilt. "Oh, God, I love you."_

"_I know," she whispered as he began to move within her, her slick and wet walls drawing him deeper and deeper with each thrust he made. "Now, show me."  
><em>

"_I…almost lost you," he grunted, each word falling away from his lips with a gasp of breath. "Oh, fuck, Bones, I can't…I can't lose you―"_

_Her hips bucked towards him as she felt him slow his movements enough to use the hand that he had wrapped around her waist to lift her up slightly. Once her body was pressed against his, her back covered by the warmth of his chest, she felt his lips begin to trace a wet line from the curve of her shoulder to the crook of her neck and up towards her jaw. His fingers kneaded her soft and giving ass cheeks, causing her to moan again. _

"_I'm here," she cried, a throaty drawl falling away from her voice. "Oooohhh, Booth―"_

_He hesitated only for a minute when he saw the tell-tale white gauze bandage that was taped to her neck. For a few seconds, the sight jarred him and slowed his movements to a standstill. Almost as if she sensed what was happening, Brennan lamented the loss of feeling him fill her as she pulled away and shifted on her knees to turn around and face him. _

_Lifting her eyes to meet his, she smiled and repeated her earlier words. "You haven't lost me. I'm here…right here."_

_Her reassurances renewed both his faith and his focus. As reached for her mouth, his tongue plunged in and out of her sweetness, eager and angry as he tried to show her how scared he'd been, how close he'd come to allowing the darkness he fought to keep at bay from overwhelming him. Not to be outdone, Brennan allowed her hands to come to Booth's shoulders as she caressed the broad expanse and then dug her fingers into his shoulders._

"_God," she pleaded with him in a soft voice her whispery breath falling away from her mouth to dance across the short distance between them until it fell to meet his ears. "Booth―keep…please. Don't stop. I won't break. Please…please let me feel. Go harder….make me feel, please."_

"_I love you," he whispered again, as he lowered them to the bed, sought out a comfortable if conventional position, and slid into her once more, increasing his tempo as moved in and out of her. "Love you, love you, ohhh, God―I love you."_

_And, a moment or two later, when her cries mingled with his own―his sweaty body covering hers once more in a gesture that was both protective and loving―both eventually fell quiet but for the gasping of air. Not another word was spoken. In the end, when he slipped out of her, drew her into his arms, and wrapped his arms around her, true to her word, Brennan eventually slept. _

* * *

><p><em>Brennan sat on a bench at Hillside Park where she watched her husband struggling to set her young step-son on the carousel.<em>

"_Come on, Parker," Booth sighed as he struggled with the stubborn five-year old, who―in many ways could be just as hard headed as his father. "I'll put you up there."_

"_No, Daddy," Parker said, shaking his head. "I don't wanna get on." The child's eyes then darted around and called out, even though he couldn't see her. "Bones! Daddy's making me ride the ride, I don't wanna! Bones!" _

_Booth didn't have to shoot his wife a look as he plucked Parker from the ground and sat him on one of the horses. "Up. Up," Booth nodded, pleased with himself. "There you go. Alright?" he said as he strapped Parker into the ride. _

_Noting that Parker was clutching at the plastic mane of the horse for dear life, Brennan felt a surge of emotion that caused her to stand and walk to the edge of the white railing where he could see her. "Don't worry, Parker. I'm here."_

"_Bones!" Parker yelled._

"_We'll be right here when you're done, bub," Booth said, before he planted a kiss on the boy's mop of hair. "Knuckles," he said with a smile. Quickly, albeit with a small look of reluctance that he shot at Brennan that did tug at her heart strings―just as Parker had intended it would―Parker lifted his hand so that he could knock his knuckles with his father's in what Brennan knew to be a sign of the Booth men's solidarity. As the music started, warning parents of the impending start of the ride, Booth quickly maneuvered his way away from the carousel. As he came around the gate, he smiled at her and reached out to grab her hand. Slowly, he led then back to the bench where Brennan had been sitting earlier. "How ya doing?"_

"_I'm okay," she said. "Although he was fighting pretty dirty there, by the end, huh?"_

"_For some strange reason, the kid seems to think you're an easier mark than me," Booth said with a shake of his head. "I don't know why since we both know you're the one with the set of steel balls in this marriage, but there it is."_

_Brennan smiled at the compliment as she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "How is he?" she asked._

"_Yeah, I'm afraid I freaked him out the other day like we thought," Booth sighed. "He's really scared of this place. Now, I gotta put that right."_

"_That's you all over―putting things right," Brennan said quietly. The pair were silent for a moment before a thought occurred to Brennan. "Cam gets released from the hospital today?"_

"_Yeah," Booth said a bit dejectedly._

_Noticing the change in his tone, Brennan asked, "What?"_

"_You know, what happened to Cam happened because…it kills me to think about it, Bones. But for the grace of God, it could've been you that Epps got to, and I don't know what I would've done if I'd had to see you in that hospital bed instead of her." His voice trailed off, becoming thick with emotion that Brennan knew he was desperately trying to control. After a minute or two, and several deep breaths later, Booth resumed speaking. "With all this bullshit coming so soon after the Gravedigger…I can't lie, Bones. I'm scared. I'm so goddamn scared I'm going out of my mind. What happened to Cam was a fluke, I'll give you that―but that's only because Epps didn't know that you and I…that we had a personal relationship."_

"_Had?" Brennan arched an eyebrow at his wording. "You trying to tell me something there, Booth?"_

_Grinning a bit sheepishly at his faux pas, Booth shrugged slightly as he said, "Yes, I want a divorce and to never see you again."_

_Reaching over, Brennan lightly punched him in the shoulder. "Very funny."_

"_Yes, I am," he said with a pleased look on his face. "I'm hysterical. You've just never realized it." A moment later, all of a sudden, all the mirth that had been on his face was gone and replaced by something infinitely more serious. "You know, Bones…the Bureau―conventional wisdom says that people who work in . . . high-risk situations they can't be involved romantically because it leads to things like what happened."_

"_High-risk situations?" Brennan asked with an arched eyebrow as she parroted his words back at him._

_Nodding, Booth said, "Every single day it's with us. There's this line, and we're not supposed to cross it." He stopped and then added as he held her questioning gaze with his, "You know what I'm saying?"_

"_Yes. I understand," Brennan nodded. "What happened to us could happen again as long as we're involved. But, since we both crossed that line a long time ago…it's sort of a moot point, isn't it, Booth? I mean, this is the life we live, and I wouldn't change it for anything. I love you, you love me…we're together, we want to be together, right?"_

"_Yeah, baby," he said as he wrapped his arms around her and placed a gently kiss on her forehead. "It's just…I felt I needed to say it."_

"_I understand," Brennan said. "It's your way of trying to make things right with me, correct?" she asked. Slowly he nodded, and Brennan chuckled. "It's okay, you know. You don't have to do that." She paused as Parker went by them on the carousel and waved at the pair. "He seems okay now," she mused._

"_Yeah, you know, it's important to make things right. I just don't know how. I don't know how―" Booth's voice trailed off._

_Turning around, Brennan shifted so that she was facing him on the bench. "I told you, Booth. There's nothing that you need to make right with me…but, maybe there's something I can do to make things right with you." She stopped, was very far away from him for a moment as she seemed to consider a choice, and then―her decision made, a smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she said, "You know I refuse to go by the name Mrs. Booth? Both for professional and practical reasons―"_

"_Yeah, yeah," Booth laughed, let a breath escape his mouth as what she'd said was not as serious as he'd been expecting. "We've been over that, like, a hundred times, Bones. I know you love busting my balls about it, but come on now―"_

"_Well," Brennan said carefully, the seriousness of her countenance not fading away. "Like I've explained…there are a number of reasons why it's not feasible for me to take your last name. But, as a gesture of me trying to make things right with you, maybe…maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if my child had your last name."_

_Booth tensed as Brennan finished speaking. The breath he'd just expelled seemed to jump back into his throat. His warm brown eyes held a question, and eventually he managed to ask her―in a relatively calm and measured voice that quite surprised him given the whirl of emotions he felt at her simple sentence―a single question. "Is, ahh, this a hypothetical circumstance, Bones…or something more…imminent?"_

_A twinkle began to shine in her eyes as she said, "Very imminent." She paused and a nervous smile played at the edge of her lips. "I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I didn't know how."_

"_Wait," Booth said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"_

"_If what you think I'm telling you is that you've managed, as the modern parlance goes, to knock me up, then yes," she said with a nervous chuckle. Some of his seriousness crept into her voice as she tilted her head and asked in a small tone, "Is that…that is, are you okay with that?"_

_The grin that he gave her as he reached out to pull her into his embrace said all she needed to know and more._

* * *

><p>As the time passed while Brennan had been speaking, the morning fog had turned into something more pervasive and had caused the pair to retreat indoors. Brennan and Wyatt now sat on the couch in his living room. Through the closed French doors, Brennan watched as the morning rain began to fall in earnest, the grey storm clouds moving too quickly for her to see much besides the continuous pelt of rain that would no doubt cause problems for the roses once the sun returned.<p>

Brennan, her legs drawn up to her chin, looked away from Wyatt as they both knew she was done speaking for the day. For the first time in all of their sessions―although it had threatened to happen on a couple of occasions, Brennan had actually managed to keep it at bay―silent tears ran down her cheeks as she shivered slightly.

At a loss for what to say, Wyatt merely stood up, gathered a dark blue crocheted afghan, and walked over to the edge of the couch where she sat. Draping the blanket across her shoulders, Brennan didn't look up to meet his gaze as he situated the blanket around her. He stayed only a moment, giving her a light pat of reassurance on the shoulder once the blanket was settled to his satisfaction. He then walked away into the kitchen, leaving his patient in solitude to collect her thoughts, and, perhaps, begin to mourn the life that he could now start to see why it cost her so dearly to lose.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - Coming up next: a brief interlude away from Brennan's therapy as Max and Sister Bernadette make reappearances. Stay tuned!~


	13. Ch12:Trying to Understand

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 12 – Trying to Understand<span>

* * *

><p>Although he'd stared at the by-now very familiar―if somewhat traditionally limited―menu of the Royal Diner many times before, Max Keenan still felt a need to go through the motions and read it―just in case something unexpected had changed since he'd last been there the previous week.<p>

_Besides_, he thought as his eyes scanned over the laminated menu before he glanced at his watch. _It's not like I don't have a bit of time to kill. I doubt as if he's gonna get here much before―_

"Hey, Max."

_Or not_, Max thought as his eyes glanced up from his menu, and he saw the tired form of Special Agent Seeley Booth making his way towards his table. _Or, t__heir table, rather_, Max thought as he realized he was sitting in the spot normally occupied by his daughter. _But, in either case, way to make a liar out of me, kid._

"Hey, Booth," Max nodded at the younger man. "How's it going?"

"It's, ummm…going," Booth responded with a tired sigh. "I guess."

"You guess?" Max asked as Booth signaled to the waitress and asked for a cup of coffee. When she looked to Max, he just ordered a Coke. Once the waitress had left the two men to their own devices, Max arched an eyebrow and said, "What…no pie?"

"Uhhh," Booth shrugged his shoulders slightly. "No, not today. I'm just…not very hungry."

"Right," Max said, a suspicious look coming into his eye. As he considered Booth's rather haggard looking appearance, he took in the dark circles under the younger man's eyes, and combined with the way his normally pristine suit clung to his body, he could tell Booth had lost more weight still in the couple of weeks since he'd seen him last by the way the simple black wool suit hung loosely on his body. Max waited until the waitress brought their drinks and then he said, "Okay, kid. What gives?"

"What do you mean?" Booth asked, a bit too much casualness creeping into his voice to be coincidental as he'd spoken.

"I mean," Max said, as he set his glass of soda down. "Not to put too fine on it, but you look like shit, Booth―and I mean...well, I haven't seen you look this bad since Tempe was in the hospital. And, considering the fact that I haven't talked to you in a couple/three weeks, and then you call me out of the blue and ask me out to lunch just to 'catch up'…well, maybe it's the old con in me, but I know when I smell something that's fishy. So, like I said―what gives?"

"It's nothing―"

"Booth," Max growled.

"It's just…I was wondering if you'd talked to Bones recently?" Booth asked, a bit of a hopeful spark coming into his eyes as he mentioned his partner.

Shifting slightly in his seat, Max shook his head as he said, "She called me once last week. But, all in all, no. I just assumed that since she started back to work that she's been too busy doing the whole catching bad guys thing with you to call her dear old dad more than that. And, since I didn't hear any differently, I just assumed I'd let you two get back into the rhythm of things before I started showing up unannounced and started knocking you in the balls again just for fun."

At Max's thinly veiled joke, Booth couldn't help but to crack a very slight smile. "You mean you'd try," he finally said, a trace of his old cocky bravado coming into his voice as he nodded at Brennan's father.

"Yeah," Max conceded. "Whatever." He allowed the goodwill generated by the memory of the once laughably painful fight they'd had before Booth had arrested him for the murder of Deputy Director Robert Kirby a couple of years earlier to rest between them for a couple of moments before he looked up and nodded again at the younger man. "Booth?"

"Mmmm hmmm?" Booth responded as he lifted the drab cream-colored coffee mug to his lips and took a sip.

"You gonna tell me what's really going on, or we gonna waste some more time running around with the social niceties bullshit?" Max said over the rim of his soda glass as he lifted it to his lips.

Booth raised his eyes to met Max's blue ones―and not for the first time, he was struck by how similar the shape and color were to his daughter's. As he did so, he knew it was probably as futile to evade Max's question as if it would be if Brennan had asked it. Thus, finally, he slowly nodded his head.

Taking a breath, he said, "You know…a couple of weeks ago, on the first day that Bones was back at the lab―it was…well, it was a bit rough for her."

A look of seriousness fell across Max's face as he said, "Serious how?"

"A couple of people―"

"Sweets and that intern that squeals?" Max interrupted, cutting off Booth.

"How did you―" came the slight surprised response.

"Like I said, I pick up on things," Max said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't get me wrong…from a psychological perspective, he's a brilliant guy. But, he also doesn't have the sense that God gave most woodchucks, and his girlfriend isn't much better. I've been around both of them enough to know that neither would be the best influence on Tempe when she was recovering. Why do you think I never put them on the authorized visitors list?"

"Yeah, well, it's not like I didn't agree with you on that one," Booth said. "Anyway, they were both kinda doing that thing that they always do―"

"I.e., never shutting up?"

"Umm, yeah," Booth nodded. "And, Daisy started it…and Bones just kinda blew up at her on the platform. Later, when I left her alone to go get her a cup of coffee, Sweets cornered her in her office about the incident and was badgering her about resuming therapy. Since Bones was hurt when she was technically in the line of duty, she's got to get vetted by a Bureau shrink before she can go back out, and Sweets was kinda insistent on the point and kept pressing the issue."

"What did he do?" Max said, setting down his soda glass. A thought suddenly occurred to him, knowing his daughter as she did―especially when she felt like she was being cornered. "He didn't do something stupid like touch her did he?"

Sighing, Booth slowly nodded. "Yeah, he did."

"And, Tempe popped him one," Max said knowingly.

Booth nodded again.

"And, so, what…she's been on suspension or something?" Max asked.

"No," came the quick response. "It's nothing like that. She just…" Booth's voice trailed off for a minute as he gathered his thoughts.

"What?" Max said after a minute. "What is it, Booth?"

"It's just…you know, ever since Bones woke up, she's been…well, it's not that she's been different―I mean, not _that_ much. But, well…things aren't the same between us―not like they used to be," Booth sighed, the regret clearly evident in his voice.

Max nodded, and then, his voice a bit lower, he asked, "And, do you think…I mean, did this…distance that it sounds like you think has developed between you two―did it start when you told her about the baby?"

A pained looked crossed Booth's face at the mention of Brennan's miscarriage. His jaw tensed a bit as a wave of emotion clearly light his normally handsome visage. Eventually, he shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"How do you know that?" Max asked. "I mean, that's a big thing, Booth―I know I don't have to tell you that, but losing a child―"

"I know that's not it because I haven't told her yet," Booth said, his words coming out in a tumble of breath.

As soon as he'd spoken, a look of incredible surprise―almost bordering on shock―crossed Max's face. At last, he said, "Oh, kid―but, why? I thought…we agreed. You were gonna tell her―"

"And, I was," Booth nodded. "Errr―I am," he quickly amended his words when he realized what he'd said. "It's just that…I haven't really had a chance to find the right time. At first, we were so worried she wasn't gonna make it, and then she was. And, then I wanted to make certain that she was strong enough to handle it. And, then, when she was, all this bullshit with Sweets and therapy started―"

"Therapy?" Max said. "Oh, please don't tell me he used a little pop in the face to blackmail her into therapy?"

"Sweets?" Booth asked. Quickly, he shook his head. "No, I mean―even if he'd tried, I wouldn't have let that happen. She's been seeing another psychologist…each morning for the past couple of weeks."

"Have you seen her?" Max asked.

Shaking his head, Booth said, "Not really. I mean, we've talked on the phone a few times. But, she pretty much spends all her time in the mornings with Gordon Gordon, leaves for the lab and stays in the Bone Room working on cases from Limbo―for some weird reason, Cam and Angela said she won't even go into her office anymore. She just had a laptop rigged up in the Bone Room. She spends the afternoons working on cases…apparently the only help she'll let in are either Clark or Wendell…and as far as anyone can tell, she only lets them in because she occasionally wants help and knows that the two of them will keep their mouths shut unless they have something relevant to the remains they're working on to say. And, then she goes home around dinner time…seven-ish, I guess, before she starts the damn process all over again."

"Have you tried to see her?" Max questioned him. "I mean, has she actually said she doesn't want to see you?"

"No," Booth replied. "Not really. She hasn't done anything…or said anything _that _specific. But, I can tell. She really just wants to be alone right now, and I figured that since I know what it's like to have to work through therapy-crap like this, if she needs some time and space to do it, who am I to try to make her life more difficult by horning in on it since I'm sorta the person who convinced her to go talk with Gordon Gordon."

"Okay," Max said. He paused for a minute before a thought then occurred to him. "Booth?" he asked. "You don't think…is it possible that she found out about the miscarriage even though you haven't told her yet?"

A look of worry crossed Booth's face as he contemplated the thought. After a minute, he slowly shook his head. "No," he said. "That is, I don't think so. I mean, you and I and her doctors are the only ones who knew the procedure took and that she miscarried. I don't see how she could've found out." He stopped and then shook his head as he said, "Besides, if she did, I think she probably would've at least confronted me about it by now, right? I mean, it happened almost three months ago. That's a long time."

"Yeah, that _is_ a long time," Max agreed. "But, then, if that's not why she's making herself scarce and closing herself off from you, well, then―what could it be, Booth?"

"I wish I knew," Booth responded honestly. "I really wish I did, but I don't."

Looking at the angst on the younger man's face, a thought suddenly occurred to Max as a strange question that his daughter had once asked him flashed in his mind. "Hey, Booth―"

Lifting his gaze to meet Max's, he tilted his head as he waited for Max to continue speaking.

"I know this may sound like a strange question," Max began, a bit of hesitation in his voice. "But, did you ever happen to date a woman named Katy?"

"Katy?" Booth repeated, utter bewilderment clear in his response as he looked at Max. "Wait, what….?"

"I know it seems like a strange question," Max repeated. "But, you don't happen by chance to have an ex named Katy, do you?"

Slowly shaking his head, Booth responded, "No. Why?"

"Then, do you know anyone by that name?" Max continued.

"Well, my grandmother's name was Kathryn―even though everyone called her Kate―but that's the only one who comes to mind off the top of my head," Booth explained. "Now, you mind telling me where in the hell that question came from?"

Looking at him thoughtfully, Max eventually shook his head as said, "I thought I might've had an idea…but, I guess I was wrong. It's nothing, kid. Sorry."

"You sure?" Booth asked, still suspicious and clearly not convinced about Booth's explanation.

"Yeah," Max nodded, a contrite look coming onto his face. "Sorry."

Lifting his coffee mug to his lips, Booth shook his head before he took a sip. Standing up, Max took a step towards Booth. Patting his shoulder reassuringly, he smiled.

"Don't worry, kid," Max said confidently. "I know this will work out. I know it will."

"I hope you're right, Max," Booth said in a show of raw honesty that surprised Brennan's father, despite how close the two men had become over the course of Brennan's injury, recovery, and convalescence. "Because, otherwise, I don't know what I'm going to do to fix things between us―I know I have to, but if I don't even know what's wrong, I don't know how to fix it, and right now she's not talking…at least, she's not talking to me. And, so I just don't know what to do―I really don't."

* * *

><p>A pair of disapproving brown eyes stared back at Dr. Gordon Wyatt. Two individuals stood in front of a row of tall―and seemingly healthy at first glance―growing rose bushes.<p>

Looking over, Sister Bernadette Magdala―who had actually been born Bernadette Mary Gordon―scowled at her older brother. "You got lazy again, didn't you, Donnie?"

Flashing her an indulgent smile, a smooth response was quickly forthcoming. "Now, why do you say that, sister dear?"

"Because," Bernadette said with a condescending drawl. "The black spot never get his bad this quickly unless its July or August…or, you turned on the sprinklers instead of using the watering can or hose like you know you're supposed to use."

"I _did_ get the fungicide and put it on like we did the last time," Wyatt countered.

"You didn't get the cheap stuff, did you? Because you know that the cheaper stuff never works," Bernadette told him.

Scowling a bit, Wyatt testily replied, "No."

"Well, then," Bernadette said. "When did you put it on? It had to have been quite recently."

Looking down at the floor because he seemed to suddenly found his feet quite interesting, Wyatt said, "Four days ago."

"When did you have time to do that?" Bernadette responded, the surprise quite evident in her voice. "I thought that you've been working nonstop with Temperance this week, so when would you have had time to….oh, I get it," Bernadette suddenly said. Shaking her head, she shot her older brother another look as she wagged her finger at him in castigation. "You lazy tosser―you've been using your therapy sessions as slave labor again, haven't you?"

"If they want to do it," Wyatt corrected her. "It's not really labor that's been compelled, Bernie."

Placing her hand on her hip―in a stance that reminded him eerily of how their mother used to look before she was about to berate him for something―Bernie chided him "Gordon Gordon Wyatt!"

Wincing at her calling of his full name, he shook his head slightly as he said, "Oh, please don't do that, Bernie. Your shrillness is ever like Mum when you do that. It's a bit too uncanny this early in the morning, don't you agree?"

Pursing her lips as her nostrils flared at her brother's words, Bernadette snapped, "Donnie!"

Sighing, he shook his head as he said, "She hasn't been complaining, you know, and I think I can safely say―without feeling any twinge that I'm violating doctor/patient confidentiality―that she's doing quite well and making remarkable progress given what's happened to her and how short a period we've been working through it."

Some of the displeasure left Bernadette's face as she nodded and then asked, "Has she talked to Seeley yet?"

Frowning a bit himself, Wyatt responded, "Bernie, you know I can't tell you that any more than I could ask you to break the seal of the confessional and tell me what she's told you."

"Of course," Bernadette said with another frown. "I'm not a priest." Shooting her brother another pointed look, she then added, "So, I can't hear her confession now, can I?"

Sighing, Wyatt waved at her as he said, "Oh, fine." Bernadette continued to stare at him, and under her withering glare, her older brother's resolve finally crumbled. "No, she hasn't."

"She needs to, Donnie," Bernadette said through another frown. "You know as well as I do that she can't get to where she needs to go without him."

"I know that," Wyatt agreed. "Don't you think I know that?" When Bernadette didn't say anything, he took a bit of affront as he sighed. "Seriously, Bernie, what type of two-bit quack do you take me for?"

Bernadette continued to stare at her brother.

His brow furrowed as he blanched a bit and said, "On second thought, don't answer that."

"Donnie―"

Reaching out, Wyatt placed a reassuring hand on his sister's shoulder. "Oh, never fear, my dear. I'll make certain she bears her soul to the charming and estimable Agent Booth just as soon as she's ready." He stopped for a moment before he added, "The real question is…will _he _be ready when she does it?"

Bernadette considered her brother's words with a knowing look before she gave him a small smile. "With me on the job, brother dear, you can count on it."

* * *

><p>The next day, the sun rose bright and warm, lavishing its welcoming rays on the entire D.C. area. Special Agent Seeley Booth sat on a small metal bench that was situated under a willow tree. The branches swayed slowly in the light morning breeze. He sat staring as two glazers were putting finishing touches on one of the large pieces of stained glass that they were installing behind what Booth knew would be the altar.<p>

As he continued to watch and stare as the men continued their work, he was only mildly surprised when he saw a familiar figure making her way across the church's lawn. He smiled as saw her hail him. A moment or two later, the older woman waved again.

Coming to stand in front of him, Bernadette smiled as she said, "Fancy seeing you here again, Seeley."

"Hey there, Sister Bernadette," Booth nodded at her. "How's it going?"

"Well enough, I suppose," Bernadette replied. "I'm just here out and about on diocese business."

"You're checking up on me again, aren't you?" he said, seeing through her within an instant.

"You've been coming here for ten weeks in a row, Seeley. The same day every week―it's almost as if you substituted your ritual visits to the chapel by coming here," Bernadette said, as her eyes scanned the progress of the construction of St. Gerald Majella Roman Catholic Church. She stopped as she sat down on the opposite side of the bench. "So, why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

Sighing, Booth said, "I come here to think."

"To a church that's been under construction for almost six months?" Bernadette said with a raised eyebrow. "When services haven't been held her for longer than that, the sanctuary's not open, and the only thing that's really worth seeing is the garden shrine."

"Hey," Booth said with a bit of protest coming into his voice. "It's peaceful here."

"Seeley―" Bernadette said with a slight look of disapproval.

Knowing when he was beat, Booth nodded. "It…I come here because…this is where it happened."

"Where what happened?"

"Temperance…" Booth said slowly, his voice tightening as he spoke. "It's―her accident."

A look of comprehension dawned on Bernadette's face as she tilted her head and said, "This is where she fell?"

Booth slowly nodded. He lifted a hand, and vaguely pointed off in the distance. "Somewhere…there, I think."

"How's she doing?" Bernadette asked.

"I…I'm not certain," Booth said. "We don't…that is, we aren't talking as much as we used to―she's sorta going through a bit of a rough spot right now, so I'm trying to do the right thing―"

"By giving her time and space, right?" Bernadette finished his sentence for him. "You're a good man, being patient with her like that." She stopped and tilted her head as she then added, "But, are you certain that you're doing what's best for you by waiting like that? I mean, keeping your distance from her?"

"I don't―" Booth told her with a shake of his head. "What do you mean?"

"Have you…have you told her what we talked about the last time we spoke?" Bernadette asked, her voice gentle but firm. "Have you…have you told her that you love her?"

Slowly, Booth shook his head again. "No," Booth said. "There's a lot of things I need to tell her, but I haven't found the right time to tell her any of it―either that…or any of the other stuff that she really needs to know."

Shaking her head slowly, Bernadette said, "There's no time like the present, Seeley. You need to do it. And, sooner rather than later, I think."

"I know," Booth nodded. "I just…that is, I'm not quite certain how. I just don't know how."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - Coming up in the next chapter: Brennan goes back to Gordon Gordon for another therapy session. But, is our erstwhile British therapist perhaps in over his head as he and Brennan start to get to the true heart of the matter of what our heroine's been struggling with since she woke up? Stay tuned.


	14. Ch13:What She Lost, Part 1

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

Author's Note - For those who are aware of the timeless performance of Mike Myers on Saturday Night Live in the 1990s in his alter ego as Linda Richman, host of the television talk show "Coffee Talk"…I think it's fair to say that this chapter (and the next)―at least, if I've done my job right―may make some of you verklempt. So, in the interests of fair disclosure―verklempt alert! And, for those of you who don't know what that means…well, go watch it on Youtube because you don't know what you're missing (a) and you'll want to know what it means as far as a warning for this chapter (b) anyway. Now, without further audieu….~

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 13 – What She Lost, Part I<span>

* * *

><p>Once again, Brennan had made her way to Dr. Gordon Wyatt's house to keep their regularly scheduled morning appointment time. However, on this particularly morning―the day after she'd revealed to the psychologist that in her alternative set of memories that she hadn't just been Booth's wife, but also the mother of his child…and been reduced to tears in the telling of that part of the story―well, it was understandable that Brennan didn't really want to keep her appointment. However, she <em>had <em>made the commitment. And, for now―well, Dr. Temperance Brennan was a woman of her word. She'd made the obligation, and so she'd see it through to the end.

However, as she sat on one of Wyatt's chaise lounge chairs with her knees drawn up to her chin, she knew she had relatively little patience on that particular morning beyond the efforts that had brought her to the psychologist's house and what was needed to get her to say on what she knew must be said. Wyatt reclined on the lounge chair next to her. Since it was still so early, and the sun had really only just begun to rise, he hadn't extended the market umbrella yet. A bit of the early morning fog that had been so pervasive on the previous day still lingered just a bit.

After several moments of silence, Wyatt hadn't bothered to look over at Brennan before he began to speak. "You know, the ancient Celts had quite the belief about certain weather patterns―"

"Stop."

The word came firm and insistent, sharp in its rebuke. For the first time in all the time she'd been coming to him, Brennan interrupted Wyatt. However, perhaps because he recognized the severity of her tone, or maybe because he was curious to see what would prompt Brennan to deviate from her normal behavior, Wyatt instantly quieted―a marked contrast that wasn't lost on Brennan when she thought of another young psychologist's therapeutic skills in that particular minute.

After a moment, when she still hadn't said anything further, Wyatt turned to face Brennan with a raised eyebrow and a question clear on his face.

Nodding at the unspoken inquiry, she quickly explained. "Please―I know you're just trying to do your job and want to get me to talk, but with what I need to tell you today…well, it's going to be hard enough to do that and actually make it through the whole telling if I have to put up with your allegorical metaphors that we both know are just designed to get me to talk as you draw some seemingly random, but actually quite appropriately well intentioned historical, literary, or scientific parallel. And, while I normally do appreciate that therapeutic technique, if for no other reason then it's innovative creativity―well, just…not today, okay?" She stopped and then added, "I know why I'm here. I don't really want to be. And, in a way, even though I know I have to be if I want to continue my professional partnership with Booth, please know that I thought long and hard about coming here this morning. It's…what I've done here isn't an easy thing, and I think you know that, which is why I've decided to fulfill my obligation and keep my appointment this morning. But, well―not to put too fine a metaphorical point on the subject, but I know when I'm reaching my limits, Dr. Wyatt. And, all things considered, I know I'm just about there. So, please…I'll tell you what I need to say…but in my own way and time, all right?"

Starring at her for a moment, Wyatt finally slowly nodded his head. "As you say, my dear…then―whenever you're ready."

Taking a breath, Brennan nodded in response, closed her eyes, exhaled once, repeated the process, and then began to speak once more.

* * *

><p><em>As the pair continued to tour Lyndon Page's hothouse, Booth watched Brennan with a critical eye.<em>

_"You sure you're okay there, Bones?" he asked._

_Tilting her head, she quickly responded with a bit of irritation present in her voice, "Yes, Booth. I'm fine. Just like I was fine in the lab and fine at Harding's farm. Really, I'd let you know if I wasn't."_

_"Well," he said as he continued to let his eyes scan the interesting rows of agricultural growth. "If you're sure…I just. You know I just want to make certain you're okay."_

_"I'm perfectly fine," Brennan assured him. She shook her head as she said, "We're perfectly fine. You know, it's a wives' tale that all women had to experience some form of the phenomenon that's known as morning sickness, erroneously so-called since queasiness due to elevated levels of human chorionic gonadotropin during the first trimester of their pregnancies. Just because I'm not puking up my guts doesn't mean that there's anything's wrong with the baby, Booth. Now," she stopped as she pointed at a stack of Page's hothouse tools. "These tubs are too small to fit anything. We're not going to find the second victim here."_

_Walking over to her, the informal demeanor that had been on Booth's face was replaced as he shifted his mental focus back to that of the case. "Yeah," he nodded at her. "You know what, you're right. So, what do you say we go check... " All of a sudden, Booth stopped mid-sentence as a wry smile came over his face. "Bones…was that you?"_

_Arching an eyebrow as she looked at her husband in clear confusion, Brennan asked, "Was what me?"_

_Lifting his hand to his face, Booth began to wave it in front of him as he quickly answered, "That smell."_

_Shaking her head, Brennan responded, "I don't know what you're talking about."_

_Taking a step towards her, Booth continued fanning himself with one hand before he pointed at her with the other. "Come on. Why don't girls just admit it? It's a natural bodily function. You're a scientist―"_

_"Booth, I don't―" Suddenly, Brennan's face crinkled as she caught a whiff of a noxious fume come from the direction in which her husband stood. Stopping mid-sentence, she immediately pointed at him. "That had to be you."_

_"It wasn't me!" he immediately protested._

_Giving him a knowing look, Brennan quickly retorted, "He who smelt it, dealt it―"_

_Swallowing a chuckle of disbelief, Booth had a wry smile on his face as he took a step towards his partner and said, "How do you even know that phrase?"_

_Brennan opened her mouth and was about to answer when Page suddenly entered the hothouse with their two pineapple smoothies. He immediately drew a breath and made a face himself. Nodding at the pair, he then said, "Phew, sorry about that smell. Guess I left the vents open." Extending one smoothie to Brennan and then handing the other one to Booth, he then explained, "Community composting facility is about a mile away, but when the winds blow westerly, it smells like it's around the corner."_

_A look came into Brennan's eyes as she asked, "Do you take agricultural wastes to the composting facility?"_

_This time it was Page who was about to answer when suddenly Brennan cut him off. Her face contorted as she paled a bit and shoved the smoothie out towards Booth's free hand._

_"Bones?" he asked._

_Her face twisting in discomfort, Brennan shook her head as she quickly headed towards the hothouse's exit as she called over her shoulder, "I think…I think I'm going to be sick."_

_As Brennan bolted from the hothouse, leaving the two men to watch her in curious fascination, Booth could only turn to Page and shrug. "It's not the smoothies," he explained. Lifting one of the cups to his lips, he took a sip and then smiled, "They're great. It's just…well, let's just say Bones is a bit more normal than she thought after all."_

* * *

><p>"It sounds funny, doesn't it?" Brennan asked as she looked to Wyatt. "I mean, when I tell it like that, it sounds comical, right? A greenhouse, a murder investigation, and I get morning sickness for the first time while we were on a case." She stopped and then shook her head slowly as she smiled sadly. "Booth laughed about that for weeks. He thought it was hilarious that everything about my pregnancy was related in some way to our work."<p>

She stopped for a moment, letting her voice trail off. Not sure if he should speak or not, finally Wyatt dared to offer a seemingly minor observation as the silence―and the distance―continued to grow between them.

"Of course," he began tentatively. "While solving crimes is what brought you and Agent Booth together―in some ways, it did help to provide the impetus for the initial foundation for your relationship, I'd like to think that both of you are two well-balanced individuals who've always been able to make the distinction between the who you are and the work you do. That's not all there is to the two of you, you know."

As he'd continued to speak, Brennan raised her head as she looked over at the psychologist. After he'd finished speaking, Brennan nodded her head.

"Yes," Brennan finally conceded the point to Wyatt. "That's true." She stopped again after a minute, seemingly grappling with her thoughts before she added, "Of course, the baby didn't know that. She was…uniquely stubborn in that―in a lot of things really. I mean, from a certain perspective, she was created because of our work. After all, she was conceived the night that Booth rescued me from the Gravedigger. I found out I was pregnant during the case where Howard Eppes escaped from jail and was killed when he fell from my balcony. And, then I got sick for the first time during our investigation into the murder of Franklin Curtis." Pausing again, she smiled as she said, "Like I said, Booth and I may've known how to keep our professional and personal lives separate, but the baby never seemed to have gotten the proverbial memo…or if she did, she continued to ignore it throughout my pregnancy."

* * *

><p><em>She knew she shouldn't have come―not now, not when she was so solidly into her second trimester of the pregnancy. All in all, she was surprised that Booth had caved and agreed to let her accompany him in the taxi. But, then again, they were following the decoy truck at a safe distance in an unmarked civilian car. There was no way, really, that they could do anything but observe and so he'd explained that there really wasn't all <span>that<span> much danger, and if she was going to be insistent about it...then fine. He didn't like it, but fine. It was a small thing that he knew if he conceded to her now, he'd be able to use as currency at a later date when he really needed to keep her out of the field. At least, that was what they thought before Gorgmagon proved them all wrong._

_It happened in a flash._

_Of course, Brennan had been in car accidents before, so the feeling of her perception of the world slowing down and her senses becoming super heightened was nothing new. Neither were the sounds of screeching tires, crunching metal, and breaking glass anything that was unfamiliar to her. What was new was Booth's voice, and the sick lurching feeling she felt as the taxi cab was hit and spun out of control._

_"Get down!" she'd heard him yell at her as the backpack bomb exploded. She'd heard that exclamation quite clearly since it seemed her husband was more keenly aware of what was happening than she was herself._

_"What?" she'd asked, about to question Booth for an explanation. "Why?"_

_But, she never got a chance to hear his answer as the backpack the motorcycle driver had been carrying suddenly exploded, and their taxi cab rolled several times as a consequence of the explosion._

_It took her a couple of very long minutes to recover from the horrible feeling of having her breath knocked out of her once the car and the world stopped spinning. She sat, her back rigid and straight in her chair, her eyes closed and her head lolling to the side for a minute. Trying to gain a deep breath as her brain processed what had just happened to them, she suddenly could think of only one thing―the baby._

_Almost too afraid to move, she kept her eyes closed as she tried to still her breathing and tried to calm the terrible and fearful thoughts that she just done something to harm their baby at bay._

_Booth, evidently less injured than she was―or, maybe he was just less scared than her―reached out a hand that she felt on her cheek. "Bones?" he said, his voice an insistent and worried plea. Brennan doubted anyone else could tell so much about how he was feeling from his intonation and inflection of that single word. He was scared―very scared, perhaps even more afraid than she'd originally thought when he dared to repeat her name."Bones?"_

_Vaguely, after a couple of more minutes, she became aware of the sound of Booth moving in the taxi. He first tried his door, and then finding that the accident had made it impossible for him to open, in a rather impressive move, he shifted so that he could kick open Brennan's door. However, her door was in just as bad a condition as his was after the car had rolled over so many times and refused to bow to the presence of his repeated kicks._

_Realizing that the only way that he'd get them out of the car was through the window, he felt his heart jump into his throat all over again as he took in the image of his unmoving and bleeding partner. _Oh, God. Please let her be okay. God, I never should've agreed to let her come. Please, God―please let her and the baby be okay. Let them be okay, and I swear I'll never ask for another thing as long as I live_, he silently to reach over and kiss her, but knowing time was of the essence, Booth murmured to an immobile Brennan, "Don't move."_

_Quickly shifted and shimmied through the window, landing on wobbly feet. Scrambling away from the driver's side of the taxi, he stumbled to the passenger side of the car. Reaching in through her window, he quickly unbuckled her seatbelt. Shaking her gently, he felt some relief when he heard her moan. After a few more seconds, her eyes blinked open, and she looked at him with a glassy stare._

_"Okay," he nodded. "Put your arm underneath my shoulder. Come on, you ready?"_

_The only response he received was an unintelligible groan from her._

_Shaking his head, Booth insistently responded, "On 3." He paused for a deep breath and then told her firmly, "1, 2, 3. Move."_

_Wrapping his arms around her― and somewhat surprised that she'd found the energy to comply with his demand and somewhat ecstatically relieved that she was strong enough lift her body to aid in his efforts to pull her free from the taxi, eventually he managed to get her out the window. Lifting her out, and carrying her in his arms, he took her a safe distance away. Falling to his knees, he set her down as gently as possible on the sidewalk to which they'd stumbled._

_"I'm fine, I'm fine," she finally managed to murmur, although her throat felt as if she was speaking with a piece of coarse sandpaper attached to her throat every time she did so. Seeing the look of concern on his face, she tried to reassure him as she swallowed again and then whispered, "I'm okay, I'm okay."_

_"Bones?" he whispered._

_"I'm good, Booth," she said. "I swear…I'm okay."_

_"The baby?" he dared to breathe._

_The wail of sirens in the distance grew louder with each passing minute. The smell of the acrid smoke and the metallic tang of blood tickled her nostrils. But, in that moment, the only thing that she could concentrate on was the two words that Booth had spoken._

_The baby._

_As she tried to take stock of what had just happened, with blood trickling down her forehead from a mildly nasty gash at the corner of her head, Brennan moaned a bit as she forced her hands to run over the slightly distended bump in the middle of her torso. As she tried to make sense of the sensations she was feeling, quickly she determined that she wasn't wounded or bleeding or feeling any pain in the vicinity of her abdomen._

_Looking up at Booth, who stared at her with expectantly fearful eyes, she finally managed a weak smile._

_"I think we're both okay," she nodded._

_"You sure?"_

_She was about to nod in confirmation when suddenly she felt a twinge in the middle of her stomach. It was a strange sensation to say the least―it almost felt like a slight breathy flutter more than any other discernible sensation that Brennan remember having experienced and thus could use as a baseline from which she could describe the feeling. While the feeling wasn't inherently negative, given the fact that she'd just been in a major automobile accident and then experienced a never before felt sensation in the vicinity of her uterus…well, she did what an expectant mother would do. She desperately tried to discern if the sensation could in any way be described as painful, and thus as a negative happenstance. However, as Brennan was trying to make this decision, something strange happened. The sensation occurred a second time. Dumbstruck, the thunderous look of surprise on her face must've concerned Booth as he leaned forward._

_"Bones?" he whispered, a half-prayer and a half-plea for her to explain what was going on._

_"I think―" she then suddenly smiled as she reached out and grabbed his hand as the strange sensation came a third time. "I think…the baby. It's letting us know it's okay." And, as she pressed his hand to the bump in her abdomen, she couldn't help but smile at the point that in all the chaos and disorder that was the Gormagon case, of course their child would choose to have it been the first time it kicked._

* * *

><p>"You have no idea what that was like," Brennan said in a quiet voice.<p>

"No," he said, not bothering to point out the logistics of how it would be impossible for a man to feel the quickening of a child in the same way a woman did. "I can't."

"It was…indescribable," she said in a wistful tone. "I can't even explain what it was like. And, that's another thing that's made this so hard. I mean, if this was just a dream…then, how can my brain have gathered enough sensory data that it could accurately make it feel like I had felt my baby kick me for the first time? After all, I've never been pregnant before―" She stopped, felt a knot of emotion re-tighten in her throat, then she looked away as she amended, "At least, I've never been pregnant enough that I felt my child kick in this reality―because I lost her before we got to the point where that happened here, didn't I?"

Wyatt opened his mouth to speak, but Brennan quickly waves him off. "Please―if you say anything now, I don't think I'll be able to finish this…and I need to do that. Because, if nothing else, I need to know that I remembered everything at least once. I…my family, you see…the one I lost? I owe them that much at least."

As he saw the sorrow in her eyes, he could only nod mutely as she struggled to get a breath that would enable her to continue to tell her tale.

* * *

><p><em>Given the fact that she was more than eight months pregnant, and her center of gravity had shifted many months ago as her bulky size increased, it was a wonder that she had managed to let Booth lift her up onto the SUV's tailgate without having him throw out his back. After they'd finished handing over baby Andy to the Carol and Jimmy Grant at the local courthouse, Booth had insisted that they stop at the local diner for some takeout. Although Brennan was still about three and a half weeks from her due date, he still worried about her―particularly if she was eating and sleeping enough.<em>

_For about the last month, Brennan had seemed to be on a sweets kick―which she'd attributed to a craving that the baby had foisted on her as a result of Booth's genetics. Thus, he had tempted her with the promise of warm hot chocolate for her, coffee for him, and the best desserts the diner had to offer―as it turned out, three cherry turnovers…two of which Brennan had practically inhaled as soon as he'd untied the white string holding the baked good secure within the nondescript white cardboard box in which they'd come. Once she'd finished devouring the two turnovers, Booth couldn't help but laugh as she tried to daintily lick her finger tips clean of the crystallized sugar that had made her hands sticky from when she'd gobbled the confections down in about four bites each. Lifting the cup of coffee to his mouth, Booth first smiled and shook his head as he looked at his wife's antics._

_Booth was glad they were taking some time―even if it was just the equivalent of a coffee break―before they returned to D.C. The last few days while Brennan stubbornly gravitated towards the care of little Andy Taylor had no doubt been spurred by her own impending motherhood. Although she'd been spending less and less time in the field with him as her pregnancy progressed, the Taylor case was one in which she'd dug in her heels and hadn't given him much of a choice about once she'd seen Meg's infant son, i.e., Booth was taking her with help with the case and that was final unless he wanted to spend the next week sleeping on the couch. As they'd cared for little Andy, Booth couldn't help but wonder if this is what their life would be like in a few short weeks when their own child arrived. Thus, when they'd handed him over to the Grants―and Booth knew that Brennan had done it was a heavy heart―he knew they needed just a little bit of time to themselves. That was what had prompted his stop at a diner near the courthouse before he headed out of town and guided his SUV in the general direction of D.C. However, before they hit the interstate, he'd pulled the SUV onto one of the side roads just outside of Parsons, the seat of Tucker County._

_Now, that they sat finishing the turnovers and the hot beverages, Booth continued to watch his wife with a lot of amusement and a bit of awe._

_"You know, I'm gonna miss that little guy..." he paused when Brennan stopped licking her fingers and looked up at him. Wagging his finger at her, he flashed a knowing look as he said, "And so are you, so don't deny it."_

_"I'm not ashamed to say that I have developed a certain...affection for Andy," Brennan countered. "It's a natural byproduct of caregiving."_

_"Yeah. So, what do you think, huh? Change your mind about having kids?" he grinned as he pointed at her growing belly._

_Shooting him a look, Brennan rolled her eyes as she said, "Booth―"_

_Shrugging his shoulders lightly, he chuckled as he conceded. "Okay, all right. You got some time." He then tilted as he reached out and placed one of his hands over her stomach and felt the baby kick. "Not that much time?"_

_Playfully, Brennan reached out and swatted his hand away. "Booth―" As she shifted on the tailgate, she shook her head and swayed slightly as she tried to get into a more comfortable position―all but an impossibility on most recent days given her expanding size. Leaning forward, Booth extended a hand in case she shifted too much and fell off the tailgate. What he didn't anticipate was Brennan not seeing his hand, and when she turned to look back at him, she accidentally knocked the mostly empty coffee cup out of his hand._

_"Hey!" he immediately protested._

_Frowning, Brennan said, "Now look what you did―"_

_Immediately, Booth arched an eyebrow as he reached for some napkins to hand them to Brennan. What little lukewarm coffee had been in the cup had splattered over her thigh and on her dress. Shaking his head, he asked with a bit of protest in his voice, "What I did?"_

_As she took the napkins and swatted the damp spot on her dress dry, Brennan nodded, "Yeah."_

_"You're the one who hit me!" he nodded at her._

_"Well, you should know better by now," Brennan muttered in a clearly annoyed tone of voice. "I'm 33 weeks pregnant, Booth, and I'm the size of a small dirigible. As you well know, my center of gravity shifted some time ago. I can't control what happens when you make sudden movements around me, so…yes, it's you're fault."_

_Continuing to look at her, Booth noted a pinched look on her face as he said, "Ya know, Bones…if I didn't know better, I'd say that that little outburst there wasn't just because I spilled a little coffee on your dress."_

_"Ha," Brennan snickered. "Of course, if the shoe were on the other proverbial foot, and I'd knocked the coffee onto on of your suits, it would probably be as if the apocalypse were upon us."_

_"Hey, now, Bones," Booth lightly admonished her. "No need to get snippy over there."_

_Suddenly, Brennan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she exhaled and opened her eyes, she noticed Booth watching her, his warm brown eyes clearly full of worry and concern._

_"What is it?" he asked. "Come on, Bones―please, tell me."_

_"Nothing…it's just…my back's been sore for a couple of days, and with taking care of Andy, I haven't slept a lot," Brennan finally said. "I―"_

_Her words were cut off as she suddenly inhaled sharply, making a hissing noise as the air drew through her clenched teeth and her hands went to her stomach._

_Leaning forward, Booth reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bones?"_

_"Oh, shit―" she whispered. Her eyes snapped open and met Booth's. "This isn't good―not good at all."_

_"The baby?" he asked, as he kicked off the tailgate and was already moving into action._

_Nodding her head, Brennan winced and said, "I hope to God I'm just having Braxton-Hicks, because if I'm not…shit, I think I'm in labor, Booth."_

_"No," he said, as he reached forward and gently pulled her off of the tailgate as gently as he could. "It's too early. You still are five weeks out. So, logically that means that it's gotta be Braxton-Hicks."_

_"You're right," Brennan groaned as Booth helped her stagger to the passenger's side car seat. "It's…I'm not due for five more weeks. Logically, this has to be false preterm labor. I can't…I can't be having the baby right now."_

_As he practically lifted her into the SUV, Booth winced as he heard her groan again. "Try to look at your watch, Bones―see…see if you can time the contractions?"_

_Nodding, she moaned as he buckled her into the seat._

_"Ohhhh…God help me if this is just false labor," Brennan muttered as Booth slammed the door and ran around to the driver's side. "Shit―damn it…that one hurt!" She stopped and sucked in several deep breaths. As she glanced at her wrist watch and tried to focus on seeing how far the contractions were apart in time, she winced as another one tore through her. "I-I…oh, God. If this is just practice for the real thing, then I'm in deep, deep trouble because that one really, really hurt!"_

_Biting on her lip, she shook her head and vowed not to let the pain get the better of her as Booth did what any good expectant father would do given the situation―bolt into the driver's seat, almost punch his GPS to death as he looked to program directions to the nearest hospital, and then general panic as he sped the SUV in direction the irksome GPS told him to drive. And, while he did all this, he listened intently to Brennan who was breathing in an interesting pattern that was interspersed with rather colorful metaphors that she muttered under her breath all the way to the hospital._

* * *

><p>"I was in labor," Brennan said, looking up to meet her psychologist's intrigued and apprehensive glance for the first time in a long while. "It turns out I'd been in labor for almost thirty-eight hours and hadn't realized it."<p>

Wyatt stared at her, sitting on the side of the chaise lounge as he'd long ago sat up and turned to face Brennan as she told her story.

However, Brennan noticed none of this as she was lost in her tale. Instead, concentrating on her story, she eventually stopped, a sardonic laugh escaping her lips as she shook her head and raised her eyes to meet Wyatt's.

"Ironic, isn't it?" she asked him in a question that they both knew to be rhetorical. "It turns out that I may be one of the world's leading experts on the dead, but when it comes to the living…and bringing the living into this world, I apparently didn't have the common sense that God gave most mammals to know when they were about to give birth. I mean, logically I should've know better. But, I didn't―and that's why the first thing my daughter ever did was to pull one over on both of her parents. She surprised the hell out of Booth and I that day…showing up like that. By the time we got back to Parsons, I was four and a half centimeters dilated and the doctors couldn't stop the labor. So, that's why my little girl was born at Tucker County Hospital before they airlifted her to the NICU at the Children's National Medical Center in D.C. She was so premature, you see―her lungs weren't ready for her to be in the world like she'd obviously decided to be. Then again, like Booth said…with two parents like us, when Katy set her mind to something, how could she not turn out to be stubborn about it?"

Once again, Wyatt had no response as Brennan merely shook her head in wonderment as she recalled the miracle that had been hers for such a short span of time.

* * *

><p><em>A little less than two months later<strong>, <strong>Brennan stirred slightly in bed as a soft whimpering grew steadily louder. Opening her eyes, she blinked as she saw her blurry vision start to come into focus. Staring at the bedroom wall, Brennan realized she had dozed off again and fallen asleep while laying on her side. Letting her eyes dart towards the window, she saw that the sun had set and the purple fingers of the dusky night sky had started to thread their way over the D.C. metro area. Yawning a bit, she reluctantly sat up in bed as she let her pupils dilate in the dim light of the master bedroom._

_At the foot of the bed, she finally made out a shadowy figure moving back and forth in calm and measured paces. It walked from one edge of the bed to the other before it slowly turned and began the pattern all over again. As her eyes gradually focused on the sight before her, Brennan felt a bit of warmth blossom in her chest as she took in the decidedly domestic picture before her as Booth continued to walk their daughter back and forth._

_When she shifted in bed, although he didn't stop moving, Booth's head looked over to the direction in which Brennan now sat. Seeing she was up, his face broke out into a happy grin as he continued speaking in a soothing voice to the cranky infant._

_"Ahhh, look at that Katy B…Mommy's finally up," he crooned. "How about that, baby girl? Sleeping Beauty finally woke up and rolled off of Daddy's pillows―which she was once again hording like they're the last set of earplugs on a day when she knows she's working in the lab with Daisy Wick." He paused, allowing his eyes to dart towards Brennan. Although he was speaking to the baby, Brennan could tell his words were actually meant for her. While it was still dark, she could she the playful look on his face and tell he seemed quite pleased with himself at the joke he'd made. Shaking her head slightly in mock exasperation, she became somewhat amused herself as Booth continued, "Of course, it's not like Mommy didn't already have four of her own to sleep with now, already…."_

_Glancing at his stack of pillows on which she'd just be lying down with, she contemplated taking one and chucking it in his general direction. However, mindful that she might hit the baby, Brennan instead finally spoke. "You know, you should be lucky you've got that civilian as a human shield there, Agent Booth. Otherwise, if I wasn't worried about collateral damage, I think you'd need to be worried about some of those four pillows being lobbed at your head in fairly short order."_

_By the time she spoke, the baby had generally stopped crying and was just making token mewling protests which her mother knew stemmed from the fact that the baby really needed to sleep, but was fighting fatigue._

_"Well," Booth countered as he continued walking her, clad as he was in a faded black FBI t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants. "As soon as I've put the princess down in her bassinet, I'd be happy to take up that point of contention with you there, Bones."_

_As she sat up in bed, she pulled back the sheet and adjusted the pillows. Extending her hand, she gestured with her index finger as she said quietly, "Why don't you two come over here? If you lay down flat on your back, and we put her flat on your chest, it works almost as well as if you walk her when she's just being stubbornly fussy like she is right now."_

_Nodding at her, Booth slowly modified his patrol route and headed towards the bed. Sitting down as carefully as he could, he smiled when Brennan held out her hands and said, "Here. Let me take her."_

_Once he handed over the baby so that he could quickly shift into bed, he smiled as Brennan lightly rocked their daughter in her arms._

_"She's not doing too badly for a moderately preemie baby, huh?" Booth asked._

_"Given the fact that she's only been home for three and a half weeks, it's quite good that she's managed to put on almost four full pounds from what she weighed at birth," Brennan responded. She stopped and gave her husband a look as she added, "Of course, one might almost think that her remarkable capability to almost double her body weight in such a short period of time is something she gained thanks to her voracious appetite."_

_"She makes her daddy proud," Booth laughed quietly as he recalled how small the infant had been when Brennan had delivered her―not quite five pounds, two ounces at birth._

_Shaking her head, Brennan leaned in as the baby continued making her occasional warbled sounds of protest. "It's almost as if she just keeps doing it to remind us that she's still here and doesn't want to be forgotten," the baby's mother remarked as she watched as Booth reclined against the pillows and adjusted the baby and the pale purple blanket that he'd wrapped around her into a more comfortable position on his chest. Pointing, Brennan added, "She likes it best when you set her just below your heart, Booth. I think it's because when she can hear the sound it reminds her of when she was in utereo."_

_"I know, Bones," he said with an indulgent smile as he resisted the urge to tell his wife that she'd reminded him of that point almost every day since they'd brought the baby home from NICU not quite a month earlier. Once they were settled, Booth reached out his right arm and lightly tugged on Brennan's arm. "Come 'ere," he murmured. "I want both my girls with me for a minute."_

_Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at one particular statement that he knew irked Brennan with its mundane possessiveness, she merely allowed him to pull her towards him as she rolled onto her side and molded her body against the contour of her husband's. Reaching out, she began to draw small circles on the baby's back as she watched her daughter's very blue eyes pop open at her touch and then slowly begin to droop until they were almost completely closed before the process started all over again._

_"I find it illogical as to why she won't just go to sleep," Brennan observed as she continued to watch the baby. "She's been fed, changed, she's warm, in a comfortable position, and surrounded by stimuli so she knows she's being paid attention to and yet it's almost like she's afraid she's going to miss something if she dares to go to sleep."_

_Chuckling lightly, Booth nodded at her as he replied, "Gee, I wonder where she might've gotten that from, huh, Bones."_

_Brennan's brow furrowed a bit as Booth mouthed the word 'you'. Shaking her head, she decided to ignore the small jib. Instead, she stared at the baby for a minute or two before she spoke again._

_"You know, she may possess similar coloring in her irises that mimics mine, but the shape and placement of her eyes are more akin to yours, Booth," Brennan said quietly. "While it's really too early to tell if her eyes are going to stay blue, I hope they do because the combination really is quite pleasing aesthetically."_

_"Oh, I don't know," Booth murmured as his right hand snaked its way around Brennan's head and began to stroke her back in a lovingly gentle way. "As pretty as I think Katy is, I think I'm kinda partial to the originals."_

_"Mine or yours?" Brennan snickered._

_This time, Booth rolled his eyes as he shook his head at his wife. "Cute, Bones. You made a funny."_

_"I am very amusing," Brennan chuckled._

_Tilting his head slightly, Booth leaned over to place a gentle kiss on Brennan's head―not an easy task to achieve without jostling their daughter―as he murmured, "You certainly can be when you wanna be, Bones. I can't really deny that one." He paused as he then added with a smile, "If I didn't know better, I'd say that becoming a mother's almost…well, it's changed you in all the ways one would think it would, but it's almost as if you found your sense of humor too."_

_"I keep telling you that I can be very amusing, but you don't seem to believe me," she countered with a smile of her own. "And, since I married you, I think that's proof that I had a fairly well developed sense of humor long before I gave birth to Katy, Booth."_

_His eyes glanced at the baby―who'd almost just fallen asleep―and he then looked back at his wife as he said, "Give me about twenty minutes to make sure the baby's down for good, and after I put her in her crib, and then I'm gonna make you pay for that little crack there, Bones."_

_Arching an eyebrow at him, Brennan's blue eyes danced in playful mischief as she asked, "Promise?"_

_"Definitely."_

* * *

><p>For the first time in all of the instances in which Brennan had been coming to speak with him, she realized that Wyatt had reached out and touched her while she was in the middle of speaking. It had only been a simple gesture as he'd placed his hand lightly on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.<p>

When she broke off in her narrative and looked up at him, he wore a rather somber look on his face as he said quietly, "Sometimes it's the most mundane things that are the most difficult to tell, isn't it?"

Although she wasn't crying, Brennan knew her voice had become thick with emotion as she'd shared the rather ordinary experience that represented what life had been like for her once the baby had been born and come home. Mutely, she nodded.

"I know that this is terribly hard for you, my dear…but, I sense that we finally seem to be rather getting to the heart of the matter…." His voice trailed off for a few seconds before he continued with a still gentle tone. "While I understand it if you need to take a break before we continue through that part, I'm perfectly amenable to that so long as we both agree that before you leave here today, you finish saying what needs to be said because…as much as you may want to, I don't think we can end for the day quite yet."

Looking into his eyes and seeing that they were full of concern, Brennan knew what the psychologist was really saying to her. _He's not really certain if he keeps letting me go if I'll keep coming back or not_, Brennan thought. And, in that moment, Brennan suddenly realized how astute Wyatt was as he seemed to pick up on something before she herself had even been aware of it. _Fine, _the thought reluctantly echoed in her mind. _Just a bit more…for them. But, then…after that_―_well, that's it. Then, it'll be done…and maybe I'll finally be able to do what I really need to do no matter how much I know it's going to hurt._

As Wyatt continued to stare at her in expectation, Brennan finally merely nodded her acceptance of his conditions before she took another breath and figured out how best to fulfill her end of the bargain by continuing the telling of the tale of what had never actually been.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note - continued -<span>This chapter was just too long as it stood in it's original form. So, with that thought in mind, I'm splitting it up into two parts. The second part will post in the next couple of days. It's just about all but in the can. So, that's just an FYI.~


	15. Ch14:What She Lost, Part 2

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

Author's Note -  In the interests of fair disclosure, the previous Verklempt Alert still applies…probably even more so than the last chapter―at least I think so. Now, onward and upward….~

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 14 – What She Lost, Part II<span>

* * *

><p>After a moment of letting the heavy silence separate them, Dr. Gordon Gordon Wyatt looked down at his watch and nodded. Glancing up, he waited until the feel of his eyes on Brennan's person drew her gaze to his.<p>

"What?" she asked.

"I'm just thinking," Wyatt responded with a soft tentativeness in his voice. "That I'm a bit parched." He stopped and tilted his head. "Would you care for some refreshment?"

"I-I…I―"

Flashing her a small smile, he nodded with a slight plea clearly present on his calm face. "Well, if you aren't quite sure, why don't you at least accompany me to the kitchen, and maybe you can help me make up _my _mind?"

"I don't know―"

"Oh, come, now, my dear," Wyatt said as he stood up from his chaise lounge and extended a hand to her. "The chaises will still be here when we get back. And, I assure you, I shan't take too long to make up my mind―word of honor."

Realizing that her back was beginning to ache a bit from having sat in the same position for so long without moving, she nodded as she took his hand and said, "All right. But, just for a few minutes."

And, that was how the pair found themselves standing around Gordon Gordon Wyatt's kitchen island as he continued pouring various bottles into a drink shaker. Brennan couldn't help but smile as he hummed and continued mixing the strange concoction like some mad scientist―in spite of how sad and emotionally drained she felt―as she watched the psychologist pop the lid on the metal shaker and give it a sharp shake with right hand.

Arching an eyebrow she asked, "And, the final decision was what again?"

"It's called Shark Attack Punch," Wyatt replied. "It's a delightful little recipe that I learned from my sister, who I believe, in turn, picked it up when she and a few of her nun friends went to a religious retreat in Malibu." He stopped, tilted his head at Brennan, and then said, "You do know that's merely a thinly veiled code for those nuns getting together for a long weekend with a few out of town friends, gossiping, and spending a tremendous amount of time drinking creative concoctions like this one here, which, I must admit is quite tasty."

"What's in it?" Brennan questioned him.

"Vodka, lemonade, blue curacao, and blueberry schnaps," Wyatt explained, his lips involuntarily puckering at the thought of the tart sweetness the drink was such to proffer once consumed. "While I know it might be a bit more appropriate since it's slightly before noon to quench our thirst with some mimosas, I'm afraid Bennie drank the last of my freshly squeezed orange juice on Sunday at brunch. And, since my palette makes me such a snob when it comes to juices that are freshly squeezed versus from concentrate, I think the tartness of the lemonade will be much more refreshing choice―and, dare I say a bit welcomely stronger beverage―which I'm certain you'll agree isn't necessarily a bad thing given what you've shared with me…and what more you still have left to tell, yes?"

He stopped for a moment, popped the top off of the shaker, and then poured two generous servings into the waiting glasses. After he set the empty shaker on the countertop, he took a glass in each hand and then extended one to Brennan. "I believe that the saying goes…if nothing else, it's gppd morphine for the pain?"

Slowly, Brennan reached out and took the proffered glass. Smiling in thanks, she nodded and said, "Thank you."

"Not at all, my dear, not at all," he said. Gesturing with his head, he nodded, "Shall we retire back to the patio or go to the living room?"

"The living room, I think," Brennan responded after she considered his question. "My back's a bit sore, and I think I wouldn't mind being sitting in a seat that's a bit more comfortable that the lounge chairs are."

"Lead the way then," he gestured with a hand.

A few moments later, the pair sat in Wyatt's living room, Brennan having kicked off her sandals as she reclined against the dark brown leather of one of the two oversized lounge chairs that flanked the couch upon which the psychologist sat. Brennan cupped the cold beverage in her hands, distracted for a moment as she watched the light refract through the cut rock crystal of the tumbler in her hand and illuminated the swirls of the bluish-yellow beverage that moved in her glass due to the circular motion in which she'd moved it.

"You know," Wyatt said after he took a sip of the blue beverage and then smacked his lips together in appreciation. "Perhaps the only thing more helpful to setting the mood for you to continue your tale besides such fine adult libations like these are some appropriate soul searching words."

"Such as?" Brennan asked as she arched an eye at the older British man.

"Worry/Why do I let myself worry/Wondrin'/What in the world did I do/Crazy/For thinkin' that my love could hold you/I'm crazy for tryin'/And crazy for cryin'/And I crazy for lovin' you," he said in an even tone. "Perhaps something like that?"

Tilting her head, Brennan considered his words for a moment before she asked, "Who wrote that? Ben Jonson? Philip Sidney? John Milton?"

Smiling, Wyatt shook his head slowly as he replied, "No, while I would dearly love to be able to claim such poetic loveliness for a bard of the Britannic Empire, those soul lyrics were actually penned by one of your own countrymen creative songwriter from the Lonestar Republic, also known as the state of Texas, named Willie Nelson. He wrote it in 1961, but it really didn't become well-known and popular until the melodious crooner Patsy Cline recorded it in 1962."

"It's a song?" Brennan asked, her curiosity clearly piqued.

Nodding, Wyatt told her, "I've no doubt that you've heard it before…it's a very popular song."

"What's it called?" she responded.

"Crazy," Wyatt said quietly.

Unable to help herself, Brennan barked a sharp laugh. Shaking her head slowly, she gave him a wry smile as she replied, "I set myself up for that one, didn't I?"

"A bit, my dear―just a bit," he laughed quietly after he'd given her an honest response.

Brennan held Wyatt's eyes for a moment before she let them drift to a point over his shoulder. Her smile began to slowly fade away as Wyatt knew that her mind was returning to the business that had brought her to him in the first place.

She was quiet for a moment before she nodded and her throat tightened a bit, and she tried to swallow the knot that made it difficult for her to get a deep breath. Forcing herself to take several deep breaths despite the difficulty of doing it, after a time, at last, she sucked down one last gasp of air before she found her voice once more.

"We named her Kathryn Sarah," Brennan said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Booth wanted to name her after my mother, but I wasn't―I couldn't do that. I wasn't ready to do that then. So, we named her after Booth's grandmother Kathryn and his mother―his mother's name was Sarah."

"She sounds like she was a lovely child," Wyatt murmured, his voice soft and calm and even as he took care to enunciate each word.

"She was," Brennan whispered. "When she was born, she didn't have any hair…she was as bald as a Georgia Peach so that Booth insisted that we dress her in these cute lacy pink bonnets so that people would know that she was a girl when they saw her. They drove me and Katy metaphorically nuts both since the baby was always taking them off, and I was always trying to find out what she'd done with them." She paused, letting the memory replay in her head. "I can't tell you how many of those damn bonnets we'd misplace, go by a stack of replacements for, only to find the lost ones once we'd bought the new ones to replace. That's how Katy ended up with one of the better infant hat collections in the D.C. metro area." She stopped and then sighed with a smile on her face. "As she got older, her eyes were my color, but her facial structure―it was all Booth. She was his daughter from the day she came into this world and screamed her first yells―always his first, never mine. But, God, I loved that little girl. She was a part of me―"

"A part of you that you've feel you've lost," Wyatt said in a way that he'd hope wouldn't hurt her as much as he knew it would, despite his best effort to be kind.

Her eyes flashed for a minute before she looked over and met his eyes. "How can you even ask me that? Of course I feel like I lost her! She's gone. She's gone, and I'm never going to see my little girl again."

"As long as you keep her in your heart, you can never really lose her," Wyatt told her.

Disbelief clear on her face, Brennan asked, "Tell that to me each day when I wake up in the morning, and for a few brief seconds, I've forgotten everything that's happened. I'm blissfully still under the impression that my daughter is lying asleep in her crib, just waiting for me to go in and say good morning." Her throat constricted again as she tried to speak, found it difficult to do so, and unintentionally sobbed a bit. At last, her eyes watering once again, she continued, "I remember it so clearly―the mornings? I remember I'd go into the nursery, and she was always up every time. I don't know how genetically that was possible given the fact that Booth and I have always had circadian rhythms that clearly leaned towards having a peak in the PM and not the AM, but there it was. And, I know I can't possibly offer any quantifiable evidence that would support my assertion, but she always seemed to be the happiest of babies. I mean, every morning, I'd go into the nursery and hear her stirring in her crib, and I'd look over the railing, and there she'd be. I remember looking down at her and seeing her lying on her belly, poking her head up as she heard me coming to get her. She always seemed to know when it was me versus when it was Booth who was coming to get her. She would tilt her head this way and that, but since she couldn't quite pull herself up our of the crib yet, she'd look up at me with this adorable mused hair that was just like Booth's whenever he woke up."

Wyatt could only watch as she continued her painful recollections.

"I remember the way she'd giggle when I'd make her dolphin squeak, and I'd remember what her piercing cry she'd make when she wake up from a bad dream―" She stopped and then shook her head slightly as a tear escaped out of the corner of her left eye. "Do you know that my baby had at least fourteen different cries that I knew of? I knew every single one of them: hungry, scared, cranky, tired, annoyed, finicky, frustrated, angry, uncomfortable, in pain, panicked, hesitant, nervous, and unhappy. I knew every single one of them…but, there's really no point in that anymore is there? Since she's gone…and she's never coming back."

"Is that what you think?" Wyatt asked. "Do you really think that everything you've lost can never be recovered?"

"I know it," Brennan said clenching her right hand into a fist and pounding slightly on her chest at the spot just over where she knew her heart was located. "I know it in here. And, it hurts. It hurts much worse than anything I've ever felt in my life. It's like this burning pressure in my chest that is always there. Sometimes, I get distracted and the pain is dulled, but it never goes away. It's always there―_a__lways_."

"It, well―as a scientist, surely you must know that there are few absolutes in life, Dr. Brennan," Wyatt finally responded after a heavily tense moment.

"I've lost them," Brennan said, more than a single tear now streaking down both of her very pale cheeks. "I lost both of them the moment I woke up four months ago. I lost my family, my husband, my child…my children."

"Children?" Wyatt asked.

"Yes," Brennan whispered as she failed to be able to look away from him.

"You're talking about the miscarriage?" Wyatt asked.

"Yes…and no," Brennan murmured. "I…the day that I had the accident―" her voice trailed off as she tried to find the strength to continue to speak. After a moment, she cleared her throat before she took a breath and spoke once more. "I-I…I―you have to understand that when I woke up from the coma, no one told me anything. I mean, not really―and I don't really blame them for that…I know that if our positions had been reversed, I would've just been so happy to know that Booth or my father had survived and was alive and getting better that if I had been in the same position as they'd been, I doubt that I would've been able to be strong enough to give him the news he needed to give me."

"That you had lost your baby?" the psychologist inquired.

Slowly, Brennan nodded. "You see, when I first woke up, I was so disoriented, and so in and out of things because of the pain that I didn't think much of things. I knew that Katy was safe and since she was so little, I knew she couldn't come to see me in the hospital, so I didn't ask about her―I only asked about her once. And, when I started to realize that things were off, it was so horrible. It was like there was one set of memories that were so clear and so real that I could recall ever tiny details. But, the longer I was awake, the more these other set of memories began to encroach on my life. And, the horrible thing was…there wasn't any major significant earth shattering difference between the two…every event that happen―each case, each trial, each day in the lab or field…it was all there. All of it was there, but for one small detail―in the set of 'real' memories…my family was gone. In the blink of an eye…I lost both my husband…any my children."

"Children?" Wyatt couldn't help but repeat the final word that Brennan had almost let forth in a small, but strangled cry.

Slowly, she nodded at him as she sadly confirmed what she'd said.

"Yes...children."

* * *

><p><em>The normal hustle and bustle of the Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian had always seemed to fascinate Booth and Brennan's daughter. At not quite fourteen months of age, she was still at the point in her development where all types of stimuli fascinated her as she inched closer and closer to independent mobility. It was with his daughter balanced on his hip in one hand―trying to keep her from squirming away and not doing a very good job at it―and his cell phone pressed to his ear with his other hand that Special Agent Seeley Booth knew it was going to be a busy morning.<em>

_"Yes," Booth responded into the phone. "I got it―Grant's last known address of employment was as a carpenter at St. Gerald Majella's Roman Catholic Church. Yup. I've got it. And, his probation officer is sure that the info is still current? Right…okay. Right. I'll take care of it. Yup. Got it. Bye."_

_The baby, tired of being able to view the busyness of the lab without being able to get free to explore it, began to screech in a way that made Booth's ears hurt._

_Pocketing the cell phone, Booth used his newly freed hand to shift the baby further up into a more steady grip. "Katy, cut it out, would ya?" Booth said with a wince as she continued to make noises of annoyance at being restrained by her father. "I'm tryin' to―"_

_"Mini-B!" a very excited female voice exclaimed as a familiar voice came around the platform's corner, and Angela Montenegro's eyes light up at the sight of the baby._

_As soon as the baby saw Angela, her squeals intensified as she recognized her mother's best friend. Reaching out to the artist, Katy began to twist and turn again to get out of Booth's tight grasp._

_When he saw that Angela was close enough, he gratefully let her take the baby with a sigh._

_"How's it going, G-man?" Angela chuckled as she took the baby and began to bounce her in her arms._

_"I'm not gonna lie, Angela―I've had better mornings," Booth grumbled._

_"Yeah, well, as awesome as it is to see mini-B, you better take her to my office real quick so Cam doesn't see her and flip out," Angela said. "I'm not sure if Bren told you about how she went off on the 'no-babies-in-the-lab' thing a few weeks ago, but it wasn't pretty."_

_Booth frowned as his furrowed at Angela's comments. "Bones mentioned she and Cam have been―well, that there's been a bit more friction between them than normal. Is that why?"_

_Angela nodded. "Cam doesn't want the baby here…even if she's just in Bren's office. She says she could compromise evidence and multi-million dollar equipment by spitting up on the Mass-Spec or something."_

_"Oh, really?" Booth asked as he crossed his arms. "Did she?"_

_"Yeah," Angela said. "And, then Bren reminded her that if she kept pushing her, there was a very good chance that Bren might spew her lunch on some set of evidence, and the discussion sort of degenerated from there."_

_"Well, Bones may've left out some of the finer details, but if Camille has any problem with me bringing my daughter to see her mother, then she can come talk to me, and I'll handle it," Booth respond._

_Arching an eyebrow as she chuckled, "Only you'd be brave enough, Booth."_

_"Hey, look who I'm married to," Booth laughed. "You think Camille frightens me after having to deal with my wife on a day when she's got a set of remains that have been compromised, a book deadline she's missed, and another bad case of morning sickness? I don't think so."_

_Nodding in the direction of Brennan's office, Angela indicated that they should begin walking as she made noises to distract the baby, who was now quite appeased to have a new source of attention and was cooing instead of shrieking._

_Looking over at Booth as they walked, Angela said, "I know this is a really dumb question since Bren's been in the bathroom most of the morning every day this week―but is it really for sure yet?"_

_Shrugging, Booth replied, "It's not 100% official yet, no. I mean, we went to the doctor's first thing this morning, but they've still got to phone us with the results. But, given how much she's been tossing her cookies and how tired she's been, I can't see how it can be anything but a playmate for Katy."_

_As they entered the office, Angela arched an eyebrow as she said, "And, I take it that this wasn't a surprise?"_

_Booth flushed a bit as a sheepish expression came over his face. "Well, uhhh, if you mean did we plan it like this―well, the answer's no. I mean, Bones always wanted to have another one because of that whole 'procreating in multiples' thing, but we'd talked about waiting until Katy was just a bit older before we started to try for #2. Still―it's all good."_

_Coming into the office, Booth immediately plopped down on the couch. Angela sat next to him and began to bounce the baby on her knee. "God, you two make the cutest babies ever," Angela chuckled as she made a face at Katy. "Seriously."_

_"Yeah," Booth couldn't help himself as he had a bit of a dumb grin on his face as he looked at his daughter. "I don't like to brag or anything, but when you put it like that―we really do."_

_Angela laughed as she said, "That's funny coming from the man wearing the cocky belt buckle."_

_"Well, I―" Booth stopped, and then his ears perked up as his darted in the direction of Brennan's washroom. The sound of a flushing toilet was followed by the opening and shutting of a door and the haggard looking appearance of one Dr. Temperance Brennan. Taking in the exhausted appearance of his wife, Booth stood up with a look of clear concern on his face as he asked, "Bones?"_

_"Oh, hey, Booth―" Brennan responded when she saw her husband and daughter. "I thought I heard someone out here," she said as she immediately went to his open arms._

_"How's it going?" Booth whispered as he pulled her into a tight embrace._

_"Bad this morning," she muttered. "I haven't been able to stay on the platform for more than approximately seven minutes at a time before I have to run for what has become the all too familiar confines of my bathroom."_

_"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered into her ear as he then pulled back and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "What can I do?"_

_"Tell me that you have some news on the investigation into the Clara Johnstone?" Brennan asked._

_Pulling away from her, Booth said, "Yeah. One of my guys finally managed to get a hold of her former boyfriends' P.O. I've got a last known address of employment for him just a few minutes ago."_

_"Where is it?" Brennan asked._

_"St. Gerald's," Booth responded. "The diocese has a new church under construction. Grant's apparently a carpenter that was subcontracted to help at the site over near the intersection of Wisconsin Ave and 37th Street NW."_

_"I know exactly where that is," Brennan said. "So, when do we go―Ange, no! Don't let her get down―"_

_But, Brennan's words were lost as Angela sat the baby on the ground since she seemed to be getting restless once more from not being paid attention to by the adult around her._

_"But, why?" Angela asked. "It's not like she's walking yet―"_

_The inaccuracy of the artist's words were instantaneous, for as soon as Katy was set loose, she began tottering on unsteady feet towards the office door, giggling as she took off in a flash._

_"Booth!" Brennan yelled even as both parents were already in motion, familiar as they both were with their offspring's capability and talent for antics._

_"I'm on it," Booth muttered as he moved like lightening, making it to where Katy was about two steps before she made it out of the door. Scooping her up with one arm, the baby giggled as her father turned around and gestured with his catch. "Got 'er."_

_Sighing as a clear look of relief crossed her face, Brennan then looked over at Angela, who was clearly surprised to say the least._

_"When did that happen?" the artist asked. "You guys didn't tell me she was that mobile."_

_"She's a fast learner," Brennan muttered as she watched Booth bring their child back towards the couch. "Now―" she stopped and then looked up at Booth as she nodded. "Why don't we call my dad and let him know that we're dropping Katy off and then we can go question Grant at the site?"_

_"Oh, no, Bones," Booth said with a vehement shake of his head. "I'm going to St. Gerald's, but you and Katy are staying here―"_

_"No―"_

_"Yes―"_

_"But―"_

_"Nope."_

_"Booth―"_

_"Bones―"_

_"I'm going," she said, a stubborn look coming into her eyes. "I refuse to allow you to begin to brow beat me into submission, exercising tedious, albeit understandable, alpha male tendencies just because you think I'm carrying your progeny, Booth." She stopped for a moment, frowned, and then shook her head. "Besides, we don't even know if I'm actually pregnant. We still have to wait for my OB/GYN to call with the test results—"_

_"Why bother?" Booth muttered more to himself than to Brennan. However, ever one with an acute sense of hearing, Brennan heard his snide comment...and the one that followed it. "You're certainly puking up your guts often enough for me to think that I knocked you up again—"_

_At his final comment, Brennan narrowed a particularly nasty look at Booth._

_He stared at her for several seconds, immediately realizing that she'd not only heard his backhanded comment, but that she was pissed off about it. Knowing that there was only one thing that he could do to appease her at that point, he shook his head. "Okay!" Booth said suddenly. "Fine, Bones. You can come."_

_The smile of pleasure she gave him was almost worth the twist of apprehension he'd felt anytime Brennan went into the field when she was pregnant―almost._

* * *

><p>"So," Brennan said, sniffling slightly as she lifted the back of her right hand to her cheeks and brushed away the tears that had been clouding her vision for what seemed like a very long time. "You know the rest of what happened after that."<p>

Wyatt was silent for a moment as he considered how best to proceed. At last, he tilted his head, and asked quietly. "Dr. Brennan―I have a question I'd like to ask you."

"What?" Brennan responded.

"Why did you come to see me for these therapy sessions?" Wyatt asked, slowly enunciating each word with care as he gauged her response as he spoke. "Why did you make that agreement?"

She stared at him for a full moment before she looked away and said softly, "I have my reasons."

"We all do, my dear," Wyatt replied almost instantly. "I mean, if I'd asked Dr. Sweets that question, I know he'd say you agreed to speak with me because he compelled you to do it by threatening to end your professional partnership with Agent Booth if you didn't."

"That's not why I'm here," Brennan said with a shake of her head.

"No, I rather didn't think it was," Wyatt said. "So, perhaps it's because the esteemed Agent Booth asked you to speak with me because he thought I could help you?"

Brennan was silent for a longer period after the second explanation Wyatt posited. At last, she said slowly, "I'm here for Booth, but not because of that―not exactly."

"It's not because you've been depressed or felt great emotional turmoil with which you thought I could assist you in making some sense of," Wyatt agreed. "Indeed, from the intimate tale you've just shared with me, I think you've done a rather marvelous job making sense of your thoughts and feelings yourself."

"Why?" Brennan couldn't help but laughed sardonically as she considered his words. "Just because I didn't do what anyone else in my position would've done by allowing myself the selfish luxury of regressing into an overwhelming funk of depression?"

"I hope you don't take offense when I say this, Dr. Brennan, but people who are much more intelligent and of stronger stuff than such a stalwart individual as yourself have been cowed by much, much less," Wyatt told her gently. "At some point, one would expect you to have some type of…emotional response."

At his words, Brennan's eyes flashed. "I feel," she said, her voice taking on a hard edge that Wyatt had observed her use before in defense of her partner and loved ones, but never at him. "After everything I've just shared with you, how can you dare think I don't feel―"

"I never said that, Dr. Brennan," Wyatt gently, but firmly cut her off. "And, you have my apologies if any of my words insinuated that assertion, because that was most assuredly not my intent in making that statement. It's just that…you still haven't answered my question."

After a long moment―when Brennan studied him an in attempt to ascertain his veracity―apparently satisfied with the truthfulness he offered her, she nodded. "You want to know why I came here?"

"Yes."

"It's simple really," Brennan said. "And, I think I've hinted at it before, but I'll say it plainly now. The help I needed…I knew I needed help because I figured out some time ago that I was trying to be both the woman I was who was a wife and a mother and the woman of this place that is a scientist. I knew I was tearing myself apart because I couldn't keep being two people. I have to―I know I have to let who I was in that other time and place go. I'm not her―I can't _be _her. I know I have to let it go, but since I know I couldn't talk to Booth about this, I thought I might be able to tell you." She paused and drew another deep breath before she added, "That way…that what I can forget them because I _have _to forget them. That's the only way I'll be able to go on and live this life of sorry shitty life of mine. I'm all alone―and I'll get used to it. I will. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I will…and, yet, at the same time, this way, since you know about them―well, they won't be forgotten. You can remember them when I can't, and they deserve that at least."

"Dr. Brennan―"

"No," she said, not certain what Wyatt was going to say, but knowing she couldn't allow any challenge to _this _particular point. "You have to understand, I'm doing what I have to do to be the woman I am in this time and place―"

"But, why?" Wyatt dared to interrupt her. "Why do you still have to be that woman? If you don't like who you are, why not take this opportunity to change? You've been given a rare gift, Dr. Brennan―"

"A gift that cuts just as much as it soothes," Brennan retorted, more than a slight amount of bitterness coming into her voice. "You'll never have any idea how much this knowledge has cost me―you have _no _idea…no one does. And, they never will."

"Tell me―"

Shaking her head, Brennan licked her lips as she finally spoke, her voice cracking a bit with the repressed anger and resentment she so keenly and painfully felt. "What happened to me…when I woke up and realized what had happened to me. You have no idea what it was like because it was more than just losing myself. I mean, if it was just myself, I don't know how I would've done it―but I would've found a way to deal with it. But, you see―at least I hope you see―what happened to me? I lost so much more than that―so much more than just myself. I lost five years of my life. I lost a family. I lost my husband and two children. Then, I woke up to find out that I was supposed to be this woman who was everything that she'd always hated about herself. And, on top of that, I had to deal with losing another child in the here and now of things and finding myself in a world where Booth only stayed with me out of duty and obligation. He never loved me and will never love me. I've got―" her voice choked with a sob. "I've no hope on that front, and that…well, _that_ was the cruelest thing of all because I was warned that would happen. I knew it, and I still was arrogant enough to believe that it didn't apply to me. God, how stupid I was―"

Confusion fell across his face as he asked, "I'm not sure―"

Waving her hand, Brennan shook her head as she said, "That part doesn't matter. I mean…I lived five years in the nine days after the first 18 minutes passed once I fell. That's the important part, right? The part that hurt me the most and cut me to the quick each time I woken up and remembered the life I had? Every morning, for a few preciously glorious seconds, I'd forget what was reality and cling to what had never really been…but, now. At least, now―you know. And, now…now I can do what I need to do to let go and move on."

"Move on?" Wyatt inquired. "Move on from what?"

"Booth, mainly," Brennan whispered. "I love him too much to keep him tied to a person that he cares about only as a friend and partner. I can't―I won't keep him from having the family and life that we had with someone else. So…I'll start by moving on from him by letting him go."

"Are you so certain that's the wisest course of action to take?" Wyatt asked, his voice even, but full of clear intent as he spoke and hoped he could get Brennan to see what was so clear to so many people…all, it seemed, but the two to whom it mattered most. "Are you so certain that he doesn't have such feelings for him when, quite obviously, the emotions you felt for him in the life you've spent the last couple of weeks describing obviously haven't faded?"

"I care about him," Brennan agreed. "I always have, and I always will."

"Oh, no, my dear," he said with a sad shake of his head. "It goes far beyond mere care."

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"Agent Booth," he said quietly. "In the here and now of things…you're in love with him. You're still in love with him. Even after everything that happened―after everything you've been through and lost…you still haven't let go of your feelings for him. If anything, I've seen your feelings intensify for him through the sharing of your story."

"But, I―" Brennan's voice wavered.

"Dr. Brennan, please," Wyatt pleaded with her. "What's the point in denying it? You built a world around him―a family."

"Yes, yes, I did," Brennan nodded. The tears silently falling down her cheeks again as she spoke. "But, if there's one thing that the Brennan and the Booth of this place and time have taught me, it's that we missed our moment. We can't go back and undo what was never done in the first place. We're not compatible. He sees the world one way, I see it the other way. I…the man that I love, the family that I built with him…it's all gone. Lost. And, it's never coming back."

"Of course," Wyatt agreed. "You said it yourself―you missed your moment. It's absolutely ludicrous the idea of you together in the here and now, given what your past histories are…being so different from the one you've described, but―" He stopped and tilted his head at her as he added as gently as he could, "The heart chooses what it chooses, doesn't it? We don't really have any say in the matter. You still love him. You still want him. That's the truth of things in the here and now, isn't it?"

"Yes," Brennan whispered. "I love him. I'll love him until the day I die…and then some. But, you have to understand…the Seeley Booth of this time and place―it's not the same for him as it is for me. He doesn't love me," she said with a shake of her head. "I would know if he loved me, and he doesn't. He can't love me…he _doesn't _love me. And he never will."

"How can you know that?" Wyatt asked. "Have you asked him?"

"No―"

"Then," pointing a finger at her, Wyatt said, "May I counsel patience on this front?" He stopped and then reiterated the crux of his statement by adding, "Hope…and patience."

"You may counsel whatever you wish," Brennan said with a nod as she at last pushed herself up off the couch and an ironic echo of her old strength shown through in the resolve she demonstrated as she looked at the psychologist. "But, now―I've said what I needed to say, told you what needed to be told, and now…now we're done here. Thank you…but this―whatever _this _thing has been between us, Dr. Wyatt―well, it's served it's purpose and now is at an end. Just so you know…I won't be back."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note - continued -<span> Coming up next, both Sweets and Booth find out the truth of―and longer lasting―ramifications of the decision Brennan's made. Stay tuned.~


	16. Ch15:Psychologist and Agent Interruptus

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 15 – Psychologist and Agent Interruptus<span>

* * *

><p>As Dr. Gordon Gordon Wyatt watched the quickly retreating form of Dr. Temperance Brennan disappear out his front door, he saw her walk brusquely down his driveway before she got into her silver Mercedes and pulled away from the curve. Once she'd left, Wyatt felt an unsettling feeling curl its tenacious fingers throughout the pit of his stomach. After a minute, when he finally blinked, he shook his head as he sighed.<p>

"Bloody hell―"

Standing up, he walked over and grabbed the cordless black telephone that sat on a nearby side table. Picking it up, he dialed a very familiar number, knowing he needed counsel on how best to handle the situation, and that there was really only one person he could get it from in a very short period of time. After a moment, a familiar female voice answered, and Wyatt winced as he explained in a vague and general way what had just happened.

"No, Bernie, I can't tell you exactly what she said," Wyatt said. "I'm toeing a pretty bloody thin line as it is when it comes to the federal privacy laws. All I'm say is that I think I did something that wasn't as helpful as it might've been―"

"What happened?" came a terse question through the line.

"She just left," Wyatt said, running a hand through his hair as he glanced out the window in the direction in which Brennan had disappeared. "I―I think it's really bad this time, Bernie. I'm not certain what she's going to do, but―"

"Donnie, you prat," came the sharp response. "What did you do now?"

"Nothing!" he defended himself. "I mean, we were talking and things were going fine and then she just…she said she'd finish telling me her story, and she was done and wouldn't be back."

"You mean, she finished making sense of things in her head and then got scared and decided to run away," Bernie countered. "Come on, Donnie. Why did you let her―"

"I think we both know, Bernie, love, that no one lets Temperance Brennan do _anything_," he interrupted his sister. "Now, I know I was a bit of a prat in not anticipating something like this happening, but I'm doing something really big here. I'm actually swallowing my pride and deigning to call my little sister for some help, so are you going to help me or not, Bernie?"

The line went quiet for a moment before he heard her clear her throat and take a breath. After another moment, Wyatt could hear her breathing, but still Bernadette hadn't spoken.

"Bernie?"

Another few seconds passed before she sighed and said, "She loves him, correct?"

"So badly it's killing her because she thinks she lost him," Wyatt confirmed.

"And, he loves her but hasn't told her because he doesn't want to scare her because he's not certain that she could ever feel that way about him," Bernie responded.

"My God," Wyatt muttered. "If one of them isn't trying to throw a spanner in the works, than the other one's right there ready to do it."

"Right," Bernie agreed. "Too right."

"So, what do we do about it?" Wyatt asked.

"Easy, brother dear," she said quietly. "You know what she's going to do. It's just a question of what order she's going to do it in…but, in either case, you need to get up of your stodgy arse and quiet yakking and get to that FBI building right now! Whatever you have to do, go find Seeley and make certain he understands that he's given her time enough. He needs to get to her quickly and set things straight between them before she does something really stupid that can't be fixed."

Wyatt was silent for a moment as he considered his baby sister's advice.

"Donnie?" came the reply as silence continued to hang on the line between them. "Did you hear me? Do you understand what you need to do?"

After running her counsel through his mind, and realizing that his sister was right, Wyatt sighed in resignation. "Yes, sister dear―I did."

"Then, get to it―"

"I will," Wyatt said, glancing at his watch to see what time it was. "I need to try to figure out where everyone is, and that may take me a bit of time, but―"

"Donnie―" Bernie interrupted her older brother.

"Yes?"

"Just go!"

Wyatt didn't need to be told a third time as he hung up the phone, spared only enough time to smile at his sister's wisdom, and then quickly moved to see how best he could help the situation instead of making it worse as he'd somehow done earlier that morning.

* * *

><p>Dr. Lance Sweets sat thunderstruck in his office, holding the single sheet of white paper in his hands. He forced himself to reread the writing on the piece of paper three more times after he'd scanned it once during the course of reviewing his daily stack of mail. The envelope in which it had come had been messengered over to him from some external source, and so he'd decided to begin with that seemingly benign envelope since it was on the top of his in-box stack of correspondence-to-be-processed.<p>

_After all, something that small can't hold anything that I can't take care of in a few minutes, right? _Sweets had thought.

It had turned out, he'd been wrong in making that quite simple assumption―_very _wrong.

As the words of the concisely worded letter echoed in his head, he tried to push away the cacophony of disquieting emotions that roiled in his belly as he stared at the single sheet of off-white paper that he'd laid on top of his desk. Her words stared back at him, and each phrase gave him another acute pain somewhere in his body.

'―_regret to inform you that I will no longer be available―' _

'―_am hereby terminating my consultant's contact with the FBI immediately―'_

'―_for personal reasons―'_

'―_so it will no longer be necessary to complete the psychological vetting that we've discussed―'_

"Shit," Sweets muttered as he felt a wave of nausea threaten to knock him out of his desk chair. "She's…she's ending her partnership with Agent Booth―and, oh, God―Booth…he's going to kill me. He's going to say this was all my fault, and then shoot me right in the head. Oh, God―" Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline shot through Sweets' body, causing him to stand up as he kept talking to himself while trying to reason out an appropriate plan of action. "I've gotta find him before he gets a copy of this…because there's no way in hell he knows about this yet. And, if I can't tell him that this isn't my fault, I'm dead. Damn it―"

The younger psychologist was muttering to himself as he grabbed the letter off of the top of his desk and proceeded to almost run out of his office without even saying a word to his assistant. Scrambling at a breakneck pace, Sweets didn't bother waiting for the elevator as he skittered into the stairs and headed towards the floor on which Booth's office was located.

_If I can get to him before anyone else does, maybe he won't kill me_, Sweets tried to calm himself mentally with reassuring and logical thoughts.

Trying to mentally soothe himself as he proceeded on autopilot towards Booth's office, Sweets almost didn't recognize a lone figure that was also walking quite purposely in the same direction as he was now traveling once he reached the agent's floor. The only thing Sweets saw was a metaphorical roadblock as the tall and gangly individual continued to walk, but even his brisk pace wasn't fast enough for the young psychologist.

_Damn it, I need to get to Booth now or else he's really gonna make good on that threat that he's been telling me for years and shoot me,_Sweets lamented. _And, I'm really too young to die since I haven't even finished publishing my first book yet, so please_―_move!_

"Excuse me!" Sweets gasped as he suddenly tried to make his way around the other individual. "Official FBI business here―"

"Dr. Sweets?" came a very familiar voice.

Suddenly, as if the speaking of his name had broken the spell of compulsion that had been driving him to find Booth, Sweets skittered to a stop as he took in the sight of the individual that heretofore he'd only seen as a roadblock between him and Booth's office.

"Dr. Wyatt?" Sweets asked. His brow furrowed for a minute before he suddenly felt a rush of emotion as he saw the older man standing waiting for Sweets to acknowledge them now that they both had stopped walking. "Dr. Wyatt!" he repeated, some of his panic now transitioning to anger as his eyes hardened at the sight of the older man.

Sweets' immediate change in disposition wasn't lost on Wyatt. He paled a bit as he nodded and said, "Oh, dear―she's done something already, hasn't she?"

"You knew?" Sweets said, his adrenaline surging even more as he waited for Wyatt to respond. "Seriously, you knew she was going to do this?"

"I suspected she'd do something," Wyatt admitted, with a small nod. He then added as a tired afterthought, "I just didn't think she'd do it _this_ quickly."

"I can't believe this," Sweets muttered. "The whole reason I agreed to sign off on the whole boneheaded idea of letting you vet her instead of doing it myself was because Booth convinced me I'd do more harm than good―"

"What, precisely, did she do?" Wyatt asked, arching his eyebrow at the excitable young man and noticing than neither one seemed to have any confusion over exactly whom they were discussing even though neither man had yet to say her name.

"This," Sweets said, brandishing the crinkled letter he still held in his hand.

"Let me see it please, Dr. Sweets," Wyatt told him.

Shaking his head, Sweets extended his hand, and he merely frowned as Wyatt plucked the letter from his hand.

As he quickly scanned it, he found it increasingly difficult to pay attention to what was―not surprisingly―a very brief letter.

"I can't believe this," Sweets muttered again. "The whole reason Booth wanted you to handle her therapy was because he told me that even if I didn't mean to, I was hurting more than helping her."

After he finished reading the letter, Wyatt gestured with it and asked, "When and how did you receive this?"

"Messenger," Sweets said. "Maybe an hour ago."

Wyatt considered his words before he nodded. "My, my…she definitely moved quickly." He paused and then inclined his head in the direction of Booth's office. "Perhaps we should―"

"No!" Sweets said, shaking his head in almost a petulant way. "I know exactly what _I'm_ going to do, but _I'm_ going to do it myself…as in singular, alone, and without you."

"Now, see here, Dr. Sweets," Wyatt said, straightening himself up a bit at the younger psychologist's obvious challenge. "I can tell that you're very upset by Dr. Brennan's letter, but―"

"Damn straight I am!" Sweets cut Wyatt off. "I trusted you to fix her, and look what happened―she's ending their partnership. That's even worse than it was before…I mean, damn it―I couldn't have done worse than this, and I don't know what you did or didn't do, but it's obviously made things go from bad to worse, and when Booth finds out, he's going to kill me―"

"That's right," a very familiar voice suddenly interrupted the squabbling pair. "Someone is going to kill you, Sweets―as in that someone being me if you don't simmer down out here, huh?"

Booth had emerged from the bullpen's breakroom carrying a cup of hot coffee. He was obviously curious as to what had reduced to Sweets and Wyatt into an impromptu bickerfest in the middle of the path that lead straight to his office.

Nodding by way of greeting to the older man, Booth added, "Hey, Gordon Gordon."

"Agent Booth," he inclined his head as a response.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he deftly maneuvered around Sweets, who appeared to have paled even further and begun to hyperventilate at Booth's sudden appearance. "Are you supposed to, ya know, be doing your shrinky goodness and working with Bones or something?"

"Well, that's just it," Wyatt began apologetically. "I'm afraid my morning discussion with Dr. Brennan hit a bit of a snag today―"

"What?" Booth cut off the older man, concern flooding his face. "What happened?"

"This!" Sweets suddenly said as he recovered his voice―albeit one that seemed several octaves higher than normal and made all three men wince as he pointed at the letter Wyatt still held in his hand. Sweets coughed once to clear his throat before he said, "That is―she did _this_."

"Gordon Gordon?" Booth asked.

With a sigh, he handed the letter over to Booth.

"While I know it appears to seem quite bad at first glance, I assure you―" Wyatt's voice trailed off as Booth scanned the letter and paled.

"Where is she?" he asked, looking at Wyatt.

The older psychologist shrugged. "I'm not certain. She left my house maybe three hours ago, but didn't say where she was going."

Booth waited a beat before he asked, "How bad is this?"

"You need to find her," Wyatt answered immediately. "As I've said, I know it appears this is a worst case scenario made manifest, but I believe things can be rectified towards a positive outcome if you can get to her sooner rather than later and talk to her like you both really need to talk to one another―and have needed to do for some time."

Holding Wyatt's eyes for a few crucial seconds, Booth gave a curt nod before he turned around and began to move in the direction of his office.

Watching him as he moved to leave, Sweets called out, "I didn't know anything about this, Agent Booth, I swear―"

However, Booth didn't hear Sweets words as he disappeared into his office. Still quite agitated and feeling very defeated, Sweets looked back up at Wyatt as he finally asked, "How can you be like that?"

"Like what?"

"So damn calm," Sweets muttered. "How can you be so composed given what you know has just happened?"

"Because," Wyatt smiled. "I have hope and patience and faith that things will work out as they should between two fairly remarkable individuals, Dr. Sweets…as should you."

Sighing, Sweets said, "Do you really think they can fix this?"

Wyatt was quiet for a moment as he considered how to answer the question. Then, slowly, he nodded his head as he said, "Yes…yes, if anyone can, I believe it's them." He stopped and then smiled as he said, "Now, in the mean time, why don't we retire to the breakroom for a cup of tea? I'm afraid in your condition that coffee might push you over the proverbial edge, Dr. Sweets, but a cup of tea might be just the thing to right the world for you as well, yes?"

Sweets could only stare in misery as he watched Wyatt continue to smile in easy expectation.

* * *

><p>He'd driven from the Hoover to her apartment in Georgetown in what could only be described as some type of overwhelming, but incredibly vague emotional haze. A part of him doubted he would've been able to get it together long enough to actually make the short trip if it wasn't a path that he knew so well that he could make it in his sleep. About twenty minutes after he'd taken the letter that Gordon Gordon had handed him and left both psychologists staring in muted curiosity at his abrupt departure, Booth arrived at Brennan's apartment.<p>

As he stared at the door, he thought about taking his key and popping the lock. But, then the idea of kicking the door open also seemed like a good one. Hoping that an extra moment or two might help him get things together long enough that he could get his chaotic emotions under control, he forced himself to take calm and measured breaths. However, with each breath he took, another question echoed in his mind and caused enough chaos to undo any soothing effects that the even breathing had wrought. Once more, the roiling conflict of emotions that had manifested themselves on the car ride between the Hoover and Brennan's apartment made themselves known. Feeling everything from panic to frustration to fear to anger, the same set of questions that had been echoing in his mind for the last twenty minutes didn't help matters at all as he tried to grasp the significance of everything that had happened.

_How could she do this?_

_How could she does this and not even tell me?_

_Why did she do this?_

_Why did she does this and not even tell me?_

_What in the hell's happened to us?_

_What in the hell's going to happen to us?_

With each question, Booth felt as if he were some type of hamster running on it's wheel.

_Jesus, Bones_, he thought. _I don't know what in the hell's happened, or how I missed it, but you're friggin' crazy if you think I'm gonna lose the best thing that's ever happened to me via a form letter that I got from Sweets of all people…because there's no way in hell that's happening. It's just…it's just not._

At last, realizing that he'd been standing in front of her door for several minutes without actually doing anything, when he realized that a tad of the emotional chaos―mainly driven by bewildered confusion―had fallen away, he raised his right hand to the door and pounded on it with several firm knocks as the fleshy part of his closed fist made solid contact with the firmness of her apartment's front door.

After he'd knocked―well, really pounded extremely loudly on the door―Booth counted to 120, knowing that with two full minutes that Brennan would've had enough time to hear his summons and get to the door. His eyes darted to the small slight of light visible under the front door's crack. He knew from prior experience that she probably didn't have any lights on as the pale and cool light filtering under the door was most likely from the myriad of windows in her loft. Another minute passed, and he contemplated using his key once again, since he'd verified that her car indicated she was at home after he'd called Angela and confirmed Brennan wasn't at the lab.

_Where are you, Bones? _he asked silently. _Why isn't she answering the door? Maybe she's sleeping? _he wondered. _Or, in the shower maybe?_ Booth knew he was making excuses since he didn't want to think about the most likely possibility―that Brennan was just ignoring him.

Booth was just about to reach into his pocket and pull out the key when his keen eyes noticed a subtle shifting of the shadows under the door.

_Aha,_ he thought. _Gotcha._

Lifting his hand to the door once more, Booth knocked again, this time calling out as he knocked. "Come on, Bones. It's me, and since you know I'm not going anywhere until we talk, open up."

At his words, there was again another slight shifting of the shadows.

_Come on, Bones, _Booth silently pleaded. _Don't be like this_―_please._

"Bones," he called out again. "I've got my key, and I'll use it if I have to, but I'd much rather if you'd just open the damn door and not keep me out here all day, huh?"

Again, Booth's eyes darted to the sliver of light shining from under her door. Again, as soon as he'd spoken, he saw the light pattern shift just slightly. And, this time, unless he was completely imagining it, he thought he heard the slightly muffled, but padded, footfall of bare feet hitting the smooth surface of the apartment's hardwood flooring.

"Bones," he tried a third time. "Come on, now―"

As he stared at the still closed door, the one that seemed to be mocking him, Booth's frustration grew. He couldn't help himself as he quickly raised his arm to the door again and gave one last good, hard, sharp pounding.

_If she doesn't open the damn door, screw the key, _that annoyed voice echoed in his head. _Screw the key. I'm gonna kick the damn thing down, and feel pretty good about doing it too._

"I know you're in there," he tried one final time. "Seriously, Bones―I know you're in there and can hear me, and I'm gonna count to three and then I'm going to―"

Booth was suddenly cut off as he heard the deadbolt and chain in the door jingle before the door was suddenly thrown open.

"You're going to do what, exactly?" Brennan interrupted him, staring at him with a practical look on her face almost completely devoid of any emotion that made him recall the Brennan of old for a moment before he took in one tiny detail that almost undid him―he noticed instantly that her eyes were red-rimmed, the delicate skin surrounding them was almost translucent and puffy, and he thought he could see the faint glistening of moisture on her cheeks.

_She's been crying_, he thought. _Awww, hell_―_damn it._

"What, Booth?" Brennan asked, as she leveled a firm gaze at him. "What do you want?"

Taking a breath, he pushed the feeling of guilt that had stabbed through his psyche as he concentrated on the crinkle of paper that was in his left hand. Focusing on the document, he gestured with it as he said, "You mind telling me what in the hell this is?"

Brennan's eyes darted to Booth's hand. He saw a glimmer of recognition flash for only a few seconds. Then, just as quickly as it had come it was gone. She replaced it seemingly instantaneously with the hardness of the cool emotional detachment she'd apparently decided to adopt in the carefully crafted demeanor with which she'd cloaked herself.

"It looks like a piece of paper," she said after a moment.

Resisting the very strong urge to roll his eyes, Booth nodded at her. "Yes, it is."

"And, a single piece of paper brought you all the way over to my apartment because why?" she asked, still not breaking eye contact with him.

Narrowing his own gaze, Booth responded, "I think we both know damn well what this is, Bones―so, what I want to know is why?"

"Why what?" she blinked at him, seeming to be the very picture of innocence.

"Why is it that I had to get this friggin' letter from Sweets?" Booth asked. "Why is it that apparently my partner of four and a half years has decided that she no longer…well, hell, I'm not even sure what your wicked squint brain's come up with―aside from the obvious that is."

"And, what would that be?" Brennan asked still refusing to let any emotion whatsoever come into her voice.

"That you're ending our partnership," Booth quickly clarified. "That…you don't want me any more." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Booth realized what he'd said and flushed a bit in embarrassment. Struggling to quickly amend the words, he hastily added, "That you don't want me anymore…as a partner."

At his words, a bit of the fight went out of Brennan as her eyes dulled and her shoulders slumped. Sighing, she said, "Wow. What did he do? As soon as the messenger brought it over to the Hoover, did he run straight to your office?"

"Well, maybe not straight to my office," Booth admitted. "But, yeah―I think he did."

"I was going to tell you," Brennan said immediately.

"When?"

"Tonight," she admitted. "That's why I sent you the text message about dinner."

"What text message?" Booth asked, his brow furrowing a bit in confusion. Reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, he hastily retrieved his cell phone. "I didn't―oh." Looking down, he saw that Brennan had indeed sent him the message just as she'd asked. Apparently, in all the hubbub about her letter, Sweets' panic and anger, and Gordon Gordon's prominent link to both, Booth realized that he must've missed the incoming message signal go off. "I, uh, guess I didn't hear my phone go off."

"So…what? Did you really think I would just go off and make a unilateral decision about our partnership without at least having the consideration to tell you in person?" Brennan asked, a bit of the previous ire creeping back into her voice.

As she looked at him and waited for an answer, Booth suddenly couldn't help but feel something was off. _Why do I suddenly think we're not talking about her and the letter anymore_? he asked himself.

"I wasn't sure," Booth finally admitted. "You…ummm, us―you've gotta admit that things haven't quite…normal between us for a while, Bones."

"No," Brennan agreed with a small shake of her head. "They haven't."

Realizing that he was still in the hallway, Booth nodded at her and said, "So, can I come in?"

"I take it you don't want to wait until tonight?" Brennan responded.

"No," he told her. "Not really―and I'd kinda rather not do this in the hall."

Sighing, Brennan looked at him for a moment. Apparently recognizing the determined look in his eyes for what it was, she nodded and opened the door a bit wider as she gestured for him to enter. "Come on inside."

He didn't have to be asked twice.

Coming into the apartment, Booth looked around and saw that her dining room table was a mess with her laptop, pens, highlighters, stacks of papers and file folders, and several spiral notebooks. Brennan didn't give the mess a second glance as she headed into the kitchen, but called out over her shoulder, "You want a drink?"

Booth opened his mouth to respond, but before he had, Brennan returned with two glasses of ice and a can of soda. She nodded at him as she gestured for him to follow her to the couch.

"I'll split it with you," she said.

"Wait?" Booth joked. "Where's the hard stuff?"

Pointing at her bar, Brennan responded as she set the glasses down on her coffee table, popped the top on the can of Coke, and began to distribute evenly some of the fizzy dark brown liquid into each of the waiting glasses. "You know where I keep the alcohol. You can have whatever you want if you'd like something stronger."

For a moment, Booth simply watched her. It appeared from how she was dressed that at some point she had been out that morning. _Probably at Gordon Gordon's_, Booth thought. She was wearing a dark purple square neck blouse and a pair of black dress trousers. Although her feet were bare, her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her face had long ago been scrubbed clean of any make up, he still thought she looked beautiful.

"I'm good," Booth said, as he followed her around to the other side of the couch. Their eyes met for a moment, and then he said, "We need to talk."

"I know," Brennan admitted. "There's a lot that needs to be said."

Setting down the sheet of paper on the coffee table, he took a step away and pointed at it. "Yeah, there is."

Pushing the glass of soda towards him, Brennan took hers and leaned back into the couch. Drawing her feet up onto the couch, she crossed them Indian-style before she sipped the beverage. She watched with interest as Booth said nothing, but did, quite curiously, shrug out of his jacket. He was dressed in a dark navy suit, starched white Oxford, and a rather plain navy blue tie. She saw his black suspenders quite plainly once he'd unbuttoned his jacket. He tossed it over the back of the couch, which she heard hit the piece of furniture with a thunk.

_His cell phone and keys and badge_, Brennan thought instantly. _Now…the holster_, she thought, mentally reciting a ritual that she'd watched thousands of times over the years…both real and imagined.

His hand went to the hip holster, and he hesitated only for a minute before he reached down and took his Glock and set it on the coffee table.

"Good idea," Brennan nodded.

Arching an eyebrow at her as he swiped his glass off of the table and lifted it to his lips for a sip, Booth asked, "What?"

"We might as well both be comfortable for this," Brennan nodded. "There's no point in making this more unpleasant than it has to be."

Booth felt the cold liquid gratefully slide down his throat. It emboldened him a bit as he felt the energizing fizz of the caffeinated beverage fall down his esophagus towards his stomach. Smacking his lips once, he took the glass and set it down on the table. Shifting on the couch to face her, Booth knew the moment had finally come.

It was time.

"So," he began, the word trite, but appropriate as he tried to figure out where to begin. Fortunately, Brennan saved him for struggling with how to phrase his next question.

"It's okay," she said, cutting him off as she spoke..

"What?" he asked, taken a bit aback by her statement.

"I can start since I know you probably weren't expecting me to do this so easily, right?" she questioned him.

For a few seconds, Booth stared at her and then couldn't help himself as he smiled slightly at her candor. Shaking his head, he finally admitted, "Well, I'd be lying if I said on the drive over here that you weren't going to be some giant pain-in-the-ass about this and refuse to even talk to me." He paused and then added, "I suppose I've kinda gotta admit that I was ready to kick down the door if I had to―"

"I wasn't ignoring you," Brennan responded. "Earlier? At the door―I just…I-I just…well, you surprised me. I didn't think Sweets would get the letter that quickly, let alone get to you fast enough that you'd get back to me less than three hours after I had the letter messengered over, so I was more than a bit surprised, and I just, uhhh―I just needed a minute."

"Why?" Booth asked. "Why did you need a minute?"

Brennan bit her bottom lip before she looked away from him and tried to figure out how to answer his question without really saying more than she was ready to say in that moment. _Because he deserves the truth, the whole truth_―_but…how do I answer that question without telling him the reason I was hiding on the other side of my apartment door when he knocked was because I was trying to stop crying before I opened it? Damn it_―

At last, she said, "I just…like I said, you surprised me, and I needed a minute to get myself together, okay?"

"Were you crying?"

The simple question caused Brennan's head to snap around so that she met Booth's questioning eyes in only a few seconds.

"Why would you even ask me that?" Brennan countered, hoping to deflect his question with one of her own. "I―"

"Bones," he said, leaning forward and shaking his head as he closed a bit of the distance between them. "Let's cut the bullshit, huh? I know you well enough to know when you've been crying, and you were crying when I got here―"

"No, I wasn't―"

"Yes," he insisted. "Yes, you were. And, as important as that is to me…the bigger issue here―and the one I think we need to start with, is the question of why…why were you crying?"

"I-I…I―"

"Was it because of the letter?" Booth asked, his voice gentle but firm as he threw them both into the deep-end of the heart of the matters that they'd needed to discuss with one another for so long, but hadn't. "Did you mean it?" he asked. "What the letter said―about you ending our partnership…did you really mean it?"

Brennan mentally cursed as she felt her eyes begin to water once again. However, as Booth's intense brown eyes stayed fixed on hers as he awaited his answer, Brennan could only slowly nod as she more mouthed the answer than actually said it in a voice loud enough so that it could actually be heard.

"Yes."

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><p><span>-TBC-<span>

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><p><span>Author's Note -<span> Coming up next…what everyone's most likely been waiting for: the epic confrontation between Booth and Brennan. It's up next folks, so stay tuned.~


	17. Ch16:Just As Easy to Begin Again, Part 1

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

Author's Note - I didn't really expect this (although I probably should have), but as I was writing this I found myself getting a bit misty-eyed in parts. So, in the interests of fair disclosure, verklempt alert! But, stick with me. I promise, soon, all the suffering these two have been through will be made worth it. There's just a bit more to go to get there…~

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><p><span>Chapter 16 – Just As Easy to Begin Again, Part I<span>

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><p>They stared at one another for a moment, the weight of four and a half years―even longer in Brennan's case―of memories and feelings and so much more swirling between the pair.<p>

Now that Brennan had cast the proverbial die with her answer, neither one was quite certain how to proceed. For her, who'd had the benefit of more time to prepare for the conversation, she still wasn't certain if she could give Booth the explanation that she knew he both needed for closure and deserved because she loved him so much. For him, who'd hit the grounding running once he'd found out about her decision less than a half hour before, he still wasn't certain what to do or say that could simply make Brennan give up the wild and crazy idea she seemed to have latched onto in her mind.

After another minute, the silence almost killing him in expectation, Booth leaned over from the couch and retrieved the letter he'd brought with him from Sweets from where it lay on the coffee table. He felt another stab as he saw the familiar whirls of her signature in blue ink at the bottom of the page.

_She really did it, _he thought. _She really did it, and she meant it. That's why she sent the letter, and that's why she was going to tell me. But, why? Why?_

"You can't do this," he finally managed as he crinkled the copy of the letter that she'd sent to the FBI indicating that she was terminating her consultant's contract in the fist of his left hand. "You just can't."

_God, Booth, don't be like that_, she whispered silently. _Don't make this any harder than it has to be. It's killing me to do this, to let you go. But, it has to be done. I won't have two lives ruined. Mine is already beyond messed up. But, there's still a chance for you_―_still a chance that you can be happy…if I let you go right now. So, please. Let me do this. Don't fight me on it. Let me let you go. Please._

"I already have," she said as her jaw tightened, and she tilted her head to look at him with her eyes flashing with strong emotion. "It's done, Booth―it's over and done."

"No," he said as he shook his head firmly. "No, it's sure as hell not."

"Yes―"

"No," he repeated. "You don't get to make some boneheaded irrational decision without at least telling me why."

After a moment, she looked at him and then nodded slowly. "I always had planned to answer any questions that you have. I owe you that much at least."

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms as he leveled his strong gaze at her. "Then, tell me."

Sighing, Brennan looked away for a moment as she gathered her thoughts and tried to make sense of where to begin. It was a task she'd been trying to do repeatedly since she'd watch the messenger leave her apartment a couple of hours earlier. However, each time she tried to figure out where to start, she felt a familiar tightness in her chest warn her that she wasn't far from starting to sob again.

_Come on, Brennan_, she chided herself. _You can start crying yet. You haven't even really told him anything, and if you start crying now, you'll never stop, and it'll just make things worse. So…one, two, three._

"There are things…things that have contributed to my decision that you don't know about," she began in a haltering voice. "I want you to know that," she told him as she waited until he nodded slowly as she stared at him before continuing. "I haven't come to this decision lightly, Booth. I've thought about it a lot…so much more than you'll probably even know. And, despite what you may think…it wasn't an easy choice to come to, but given the situation, it's really the only logical and rational thing to do―" She paused as her voice almost choked on two words that she'd come to hate so much in recent days: _logical and rational_. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought and the strong feelings that came with it away so that she could concentrate on getting through the painful task that was at hand. "It's really the only way things could turn out―the only way things could go."

"I don't understand," he said after he waited for a moment and made certain that she was done speaking. "I don't understand why you think it has to be that way."

"I know," she said quietly. "And…it's going to sound pretty far out there once I tell you everything, but then―maybe…maybe, then, you'll understand why it has to be like this."

Booth sighed heavily as he tried to make sense of everything she'd just said. At last, trying to clear his mind, he took a deep breath and then tried one more time to convince her. "Please," he asked. "Just...just tell me."

Brennan paused and nodded, took a breath and then opened her mouth to speak. However, as she did, a flash of memories danced before her eyes―how excited Booth had looked when she returned from Guatemala and agreed that she wanted to give them a shot at have a real relationship; how excited it felt the first time he undressed her before they made love; how surprised she felt when Booth suggested that they should mix business and pleasure and get married in Nevada since a case was bringing them out there anyway; how scared she felt when the Gravedigger took her because she was terrified she'd never seen her husband again; how overjoyed she felt when she realized she was pregnant with their daughter; how awe-inspiring it felt when she pushed her baby into the world and heard her warbled cry for the very first time; how wonderful it felt, in general, just to be loved by Booth and comforted by the family they'd created. As all those things flashed in her mind, suddenly the ball of tightness that heralded her impending tears―the ones that Brennan had been fighting against for so long―suddenly reasserted itself with a vengeance.

Booth noticed the shift in her demeanor immediately. A part of him ached to reach out and touch her―comfort her…much as she'd let him do in those first few days after she'd woken up in the hospital. But, as more time had passed, she'd pulled further and further away from him, and he didn't know how to bridge that distance between them if she was still running. And, now...all he could do now was let her know that he was there for her…if only she'd let him be.

_I'm here, Bones, I'm here…just trust me_, he pleaded silently. _Please_―_just trust me._

At a loss for not feeling that he was able to say what he really wanted to say, Booth merely said her name in a calm and gentle voice. "Bones?"

"I…I-I can't," came the immediate reply, a very small and very emotionally charged response, especially given how simple the words she'd spoken were..

"Can't what?" he breathed in answer.

"I…I-I t-thought I could do this," she said, her voice shaking as she struggled to speak each and every single word. "I thought I could, but…I'm not sure I can now. I-I…oh, God, Booth. I don't know if I can do it."

"Bones," he began. "You…you've got to―"

"I…I don't think I can," she repeated. "I know I need to tell you, and I thought I could, but I open my mouth to speak, and there's just this knot that forms in my throat and…oh, God. I don't think I can."

"You have to," Booth said, edging a bit more close to her on the couch, his voice firm and insistent. "If...whatever happened to you, if it affected you this much, then I want to help you, but I can't do that if I don't know what it was. I can't help to make things right if I don't know what went wrong."

Shaking her head, Brennan stubbornly insisted, "But, that's just it. It's not your duty to make things better for me, Booth. It never was."

"But, you're my partner―" Booth's jaw hardened as he felt a swirl of emotions well up in his chest, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to get his arms around her mindset.

"And, you can't keep hiding behind that excuse because of whatever sense of guilt you feel over what happened to me when we went to interview Grant, and I fell, Booth," she interrupted him. The accident, at least, was one thing that she knew she could speak of without crying…mostly. "It wasn't your fault. There's no reason for you to fell any responsibility―"

"But, I let you come," Booth countered. "I let you come when I knew in my gut it was better to keep you out of the field." He swallowed and shook his head as the whole incident replayed on a seemingly endless loop in his mind―everything from when he saw her fall to when he cradled her lifeless and bleeding form on the ground as they waited for the EMTs to as he watched when they took her bleeding form away from him on the gurney. "It _was _my fault," he said quietly.

"Since when do you _let _me do anything?" Brennan asked incredulously, her eyes opening wide in surprise. "Seriously, Booth―it was my choice to go. Everything that happened, well, it happened because of choices I made. You bear no culpability in it whatsoever."

"Well, thanks, Bones," Booth said, a touch of sarcasm coming into his voice. "Thanks for the absolution there, but I'm not making any confessions here, so―" He shook his head and sighed again**, **his brow furrowing as he heard the edge in his voice and instantly regretted it . "You just can't do that, you know," he said, his voice suddenly softer. "Because.**..**it doesn't work that way. I feel how I feel."

"And, so do I," Brennan responded. "Don't you understand that, Booth? I'm doing all of this because of how I feel...how I felt," she quickly amended her statement.

"Bones," he whispered. "Please―tell me."

"What?"

"Whatever it is," he told her. "Whatever it is that you've spent the past two weeks pouring your heart at to when you went to Gordon Gordon." He stopped and then sighed. "I thought, maybe, if you wouldn't talk to me that he could help you."

"He has," Brennan responded.

"Obviously, if you sent this letter, Gordon Gordon didn't help enough," Booth told her grimly. "I guess he finally ruined his excellent batting average with a strike out on a full count."

"Booth―"

"Bones...please," he said. "Please tell me."

Swallowing once, even though her mouth suddenly felt as if her throat had been covered with used pieces of sandpaper, she looked away. _I can't look at him while I tell him_, a voice echoed in her head. _If I do, I'll never make it through._

"Bones?" came the hesitant question.

"Okay," she said, hoping her monosyllabic response might allay some of the fear and guilt and worry she knew he was feeling because of her. "Okay―I'll try."

She stopped, took a breath, and still not facing him, began to speak.

"While I was in the coma," she began uncertainly. "I'm not sure what you can call it…a dream? A hallucination? A metaphysically conjuring designed to teach me a lesson? I'm not certain what it was…but, while I was sleeping for those nine days I was in the hospital, something happened to me. I…I lived another life, Booth. I lived another life of almost five years in those nine days."

Her voice trailed off. Booth, trying to take in what she'd finally revealed to him, was so uncertain what to say. Shaking his head, he finally decided the only thing he felt safe in doing was encouraging her to continue.

"Another life…tell me about it," he gently prodded her.

"It was…it was so similar, but so different, Booth…I'm not even certain what changed when and how exactly. It was our life…our work…what we do, but different," she told him, worried that perhaps her vague ramblings weren't making sense. "And, it all started because of one very small difference."

"What?"

"You came after me," Brennan said, finally looking up at him, meeting his inquisitive gaze that she saw through a wavy blur of tear-filled eyes. "During our first case…when we were working to solve Gemma Arrington's murder…after I slapped you in the bullpen at the Hoover, I tried to leave…but, you ran after me. You caught me in the elevator and wouldn't let me leave until I'd accepted your apology." She stopped and then shook her head, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips. "You were so damn stubborn―more stubborn than me, even, on that one day. And…that changed…it changed _everything_."

Struggling as he was to understand what she was telling him, Booth sensed that she was close to tumbling once more into her pool of memories, and he was scared that she wouldn't be able to start talking again if she did. In as gentle a tone as he could manage, he asked, "How? What changed?"

"Our partnership," Brennan answered immediately. "The next day you took me to dinner at Wong Foo's, and instead of waiting for a year until the remains of Cleo Eller were found at Arlington, we worked as partners for that first year."

Booth stared at her, completely taken aback by what Brennan had told him. Whatever he'd expected her to tell him, it wasn't this. All he could do was listen as she continued.

"It went so quickly from there," she breathed. "Everything…almost everything was the same as it was when it really happened…except for the part that you came after me. You didn't let me go, you didn't let me walk away…and…and that made all the difference in the world. Because of that one little thing, there wasn't any Tessa or Rebecca or Cam or Michael or David or Sully or anyone else. There was just us―just you and me. We…you and I, that is…we―you loved me." Her voice choked out the final word. This time, no matter what she did, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop the tears from running down her cheeks even if she'd wanted to do so. "You loved me," she whispered, her voice so quiet Booth struggled to hear it. "You loved me, and we were together, and we had a family―and when I woke up, I eventually realized that all of that…all of that was gone. Our love, our marriage, our home…our children…God, Booth. We had a daughter…and she was so beautiful…Katy―she…she was the best of us. And I loved her, and you loved her, and we were a family, but it's gone. I woke up, and it was gone. It was never real, and it never will be, and I lost it, and I'm never getting it back." She was sobbing in earnest now, turned away from him as she was with her back facing him for Brennan knew that if she looked at him in that moment of her confession, she probably would've cracked once and for all.

For his part, Booth sat dumbstruck as he considered her words. It was almost as if she'd dumped so much input into his brain that there was a delay as his brain tried to make sense of it all. While his mind struggled to catch up to matching a significance to the words she spoken, he didn't know why he felt the instinct to touch her. But, in that moment, it was too strong to ignore. He reached out and touched her arm.

It was a simple gesture, all things considered. His calloused fingers wrapped around the silky smoothness of the pain ivory skin of her left forearm. However, there was a certain firmness that was hidden behind the simplicity of his act. As soon as she felt his touch, Brennan flinched, recoiling almost as if he'd struck her. Trying to get free as his fingers almost felt like he was burning her wherever he made contact with her skin, she felt a surge of adrenaline course throughout her body.

_Away, _a primeval voice echoed in her head. _Away…get away. Away. Away. Away._

She tugged at his hold at of pure instinct. She felt like what the only small remaining portion of her rational mind imagined an animal who had suddenly been cornered in a trap must've felt like―scared, panicked, afraid...in a single word that summed up how she felt more than anything else, it was that. She felt _terrified _and every single muscle in her body tensed to reflect the terror she felt.

The intensity of her reaction caught him off-guard. But, in that moment, he knew that if he let go of her, she'd walk out on everything they'd ever had, currently possessed, or might ever have the opportunity to achieve―and that was something Booth wasn't willing to do.

Tightening his grip on her arm, he shook his head as he simply breathed a single word that he hoped conveyed to her his immutable stance on the subject of her leaving.

"No."

As soon as his gravelly voice had uttered the word, it was if a mainline of adrenaline had been tapped into Brennan's heart.

"You have to let me go," Brennan almost begged, again trying futilely to shake lose of his tenacious hold, but still refusing to meet his eyes…because she knew if she looked into his eyes, she'd be lost. "You have to."

"I can't."

"You have to," she repeated, her voice raw and full of the pain she was so clearly drowning in to the point that she knew she'd rather sacrifice herself than let Booth waste his life by acting as he life preserver once again. "You have to let me go."

"Why?" he asked. "Why? Why do I have to do that?"

"You have to let me go so that I can let you go," she sobbed, still yanking of his grasp of her arm once more. "I have to let you go. I have to―"

"No," came the repeated single monosyllabic word_**, **_this time louder and more insistent."I-I...I can't do that."

"You have to," Brennan pleaded. "It has to be over and done, and this is the only way to do it."

"But, why?" he breathed, his voice so low that if she hadn't been staring directly at his mouth as his lips shaped the words, she doubted that she would've known what he said. "Why?" he repeated.

"Because," Brennan all but sobbed. "Don't you know what you're doing to me? You're looking at me, you're touching me just like _he _used to do. But, it's not really. It was never real. It will never be real, and it's killing me living half-way state between what I've lost and what I can't have. No good can come of it, and that means I have to let you go if I'm going to have any hope of salvaging some sliver of this atrociously horrible life that I woke up to four months ago."

He was quiet for a moment before he leveled his gaze at her and spoke. "Is it really that bad?" he asked. "Your life...the life we have...the work we do, who we are―is it really all that bad, Bones?"

It was her turn to be quiet for a moment before her resolved crumbled, and she looked away from him. "Maybe it wasn't once...before I knew what I was missing...how things might've been. But, now? Now, it's not enough, Booth. I can't―I can't keep doing this when it's just a pale imitation of what I know I might've had. So, yes, it's that bad. It's horrible. It's so bad it kills me every day when I wake up and realize what's happened. And, so I've got to do something...and this is the only solution I've come up with―"

"But, why?" he breathed, still not letting go of her arm. "Why does it have to be like that? Why do you think that it's the only way out?"

"Because!" Brennan snapped, suddenly her frustration and anger getting the better of her. "I know it. I know it in my heart―" she paused and snapped a fist closed and then pounded on her chest. "I know what it was like to feel love...and the woman I was before that goddamn accident...she missed her chance. She...she...whatever happened to her? She missed her chance, and the reason the choices I've made are the only way out are because every single other one is based on the assumption that you could love me...and the woman I am in the here and now because of what happened before I had my accident―well, she can't be loved, Booth...not by you and not by anyone!"

"What?" he choked, unable to believe the words that had just passed her lips. "You can't be loved? What are you talking about? Bones, you're lovable." He shook his head incredulously. "I―I...you _are_ lovable. There's so much to love about you, Bones. You're an amazing, incredible woman―both before and after the accident. You're brilliant, strong, selfless and brave, caring, and sensitive―even if you don't see those things, the rest of us do. I do. You're every bit as lovable...every bit as worthy of being loved...just as much as today as you were before you fell."

"No," she sobbed, the word choked as it tore from her throat. "That's a lie. It's not true…that's a lie."

"No," he insisted as he shook his head. "It's not. It's the truth."

"No, it's not," Brennan whimpered. "It's not. I know it's not."

"How do you know that?" he breathed. "Do you think I would lie to you?"

"No," she shook her head. "Not intentionally. But, you forget, Booth―I know what it feels like to be loved by you. I know the type of woman that I'd need to be to be able to let you love me…and here and now? Right now? I'm not that type of woman. She's…she's not me. I'm not her. And, so…I know it. I know I'm right, and you're wrong. I'm not loveable…I can't be loved. I know it…I _know_ it, I _feel_ it in here." She stopped as she pounded on her chest with a closed fist. "I know what that feels like to be a person who can be loved…to feel it, to share it…and the person I am here and now? She's not capable of it. It's not even a question of being worthy or not. I'm just not capable of it…I'm not."

"Oh, God, Bones," he finally managed to speak. "You're wrong―so very, very wrong. And, I'm going to prove it to you. I swear."

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><p><span>-TBC-<span>

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><p><span>Author's Note -<span> continued -This is the part where I need to doff my proverbial cap to the Boothifying services of the my erstwhile partner-in-crime from Dharmasera, Inc. She helped with some of the tougher parts where Booth was trying to dig himself out of the hole Brennan had put him into. That being said, this chapter (obviously) was getting too unwieldy as it was, so it has been split up into two parts. The second part is coming up shortly, so be patient and stay tuned as there is a silver lining to all this angst that I believe will be well worth the suffering in a pleasant pay off―I promise.~


	18. Ch17:Just As Easy to Begin Again, Part 2

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

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><p>Chapter 17 – Just As Easy to Begin Again, Part II<p>

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><p>She stared at him for a moment, desperately, and completely wanting to take the offer he was making her.<p>

_It would be so easy_, a small voice whispered to her. _It would be so easy, wouldn't it? After all, he looks and sounds and smells like your husband. He's almost looking at you like your Booth used to look at you. If you close your eyes, and try really hard…why can't this Booth be that Booth? Isn't one Booth just as good as another? He wants to be with you, take care of you_—_at least that sounds like what he's trying to say without really saying it? If that's what he wants to do, why not let him? Why can't he be yours? Does it really matter if it's done out of a sense of guilt and obligation if he really can give you back some small piece of everything you've lost? _

She paused, tilted her head, and then another voice—a louder and more insistent voice—silenced the silky whispers of temptation that had crawled into her head. _Yes, yes it does matter_, that voice told her._ Because, this Booth doesn't love you, and he never will, and he deserves the opportunity to be happy with someone else like you were happy with him. So, yes, it does matter_—_very much so_.

"Booth," she managed after a moment, hastily brushing away the tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm as she tried to clear her field of vision, if only for a moment. "Please…don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"I got it," he said, sitting up a bit straighter but still not releasing the grasp he had on her arm. "You can't believe in something without proof. I know that about you, Bones—you've never really been one to take something on faith…."

At his words—she was sure he wouldn't have said them if he'd been so clearly unaware of how ironic they were given what Brennan had been through in the last few months—she couldn't help herself as she laughed. Her laugh caused Booth to startle a bit, loosening his grasp on her arm, although he didn't drop it all together.

"You know, you might be surprised," Brennan said. "What I'm willing to believe now versus how things used to be. I'm…I'm desperately trying to be the person that everyone expects me to be, but it's hard—so hard…harder than I ever imagined, turning off the proverbial emotional spigot that you helped me metaphorically blow up five years ago." She paused, and realized her arm was beginning to ache a bit from the position in which he'd held it for so long. "Look, Booth—do you think I could have my arm back? It's kind of starting to ache a bit."

Almost as if he'd forgotten he was holding it, Booth suddenly looked down and realized what he was still doing as he came to comprehend the meaning of her words. Giving her a slightly sheepish grin, he nodded and said, "No more running if I let you go?"

A bit of resigned calm had settled over Brennan in the minutes since she'd previously made part of the confession she knew she needed to tell him. But, there was still more to be said, and so she shook her head. "No, I won't go…not, at least, until we're done talking here."

"Okay," he nodded after a minute and then released her arm.

He watched her begin to rub it for a minute and then sighed. Looking over at her, he then began, "Look, Bones—I can't…I can't even begin to wrap my head around what you told me you saw…the things you felt. I know that, and I'm not gonna pretend otherwise and even try to…but that being said, why tell me all this stuff? It's not like I would've ever known the difference otherwise."

"I know," she said softly. "But, you deserve an answer as to why I'm severing our partnership…and this is a large part of it."

"Bones—" he groaned slightly. "Please, don't—"

"Booth," she replied with a shake of her head. "Things have changed between us…they were changing even before I fell. Even I know that—and I think you did, too."

"Well, yeah," Booth admitted. "But, I was prepared for that kind of change. I was ready for the mood swings and weird cravings and swollen feet."

Brennan considered his answer and then said, "Can I ask you an additional question besides this question, Booth?"

Chucking a bit at the precision of her words, he nodded. "Sure, Bones," he said. "You know you can always ask me anything."

She nodded, looked away for a moment, and then quickly turned her head back so she was facing him. "Why did you agree to provide a donation when I asked you to?" she suddenly questioned him, tilted her head as she made her inquiry.

"What―wait?" he blinked in surprise, somewhat taken aback by her query.

"I asked," she told him. "Before the accident...why did you agree to provide a sample of your sperm with which I could be inseminated?"

"My stuff?" he asked, a bit of discomfort sneaking onto his face and creeping into his voice. "Uhhh, because you asked?"

"I know I asked," Brennan responded. "But, surely that can't be the only reason. I mean...really―why did you agree? Why did you say yes?"

Booth looked away for a moment. He wasn't sure how to answer the question.

_What do you want me to tell you, Bones? That when you asked that I got scared that if it wasn't me that it would be some other poor schmuck that you'd tie your life to forever because you decided you wanted a kid? That I've always known I felt __something__ for you, but that I was still struggling with what it was_―_and the extent to which you felt something for me__**―**__and maybe even more importantly, what to do about it? That I was afraid that when you told me you wanted a baby that I knew I was running out of time and that you were sorta forcing my hand? Is that what you want me to say? Because, even if that is why I did it to begin with, none of that matters anymore...none of it. All of it_―_everything__ changed the minute you fell. Everything._

Gathering his thoughts, he drew a breath and then asked, "You really want to know the answer to that question?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Even if you might not like the answer?" he countered.

"Yes," she repeated. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"I'll tell you anything you want," he said. "But, given how stubborn you've been about this, you may not believe me."

"Even still," she told him. "I'd like to know."

"Okay," he said with an exaggerated puff of breath. "The fact of the matter is—before you fell…and when you told me you wanted a child, and that you wanted my stuff to use to have that child, I was torn at first."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," he sighed. "I—" He stopped for a few seconds before continuing, "For a while, I was scared that you wanted to do it by yourself. I thought that you'd take what I could give you and run. And, that idea scared the shit out of me, Bones. Because, you know…I-I…I'm the type of guy who would need to be involved. If I was going to be the father, then… I needed to be a father." He swallowed, then took a breath. "And not just a father, but a father who's there, who's really _there_ for my kid. Not just an absentee dad, drifting in and out of my kid's life…or his mother's."

"I know that," she nodded. "That's why…before we went through with it, that's why I agreed with you when you said you didn't want to go through with things if I was going to…I think the way you put it was 'cut you out', right? That's why we said you'd be involved…from the very start. And, you were. I mean, I don't know what else I could've done…you were even in the room with me when the procedure was done. So what else could I have done, because that was the agreement we made, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "And, when we talked, and we got closer to the day of the procedure, I…I felt better about things. I'm not lying. I swear—I did. But, it wasn't just because we were going to raise the kid together. I felt better because…" He stopped, not certain how much to tell her at that moment, given how much she seemed already to be dealing with emotionally. _I want to tell you that I did it because I love you, but, at the time, I don't think I was really sure and knew what it meant…not really. I didn't_—n_ot until the day you fell. But, if I tell you that, will you even believe me? _Sighing, he stopped and then said, "Well, it's hard to explain, but I did feel better, but then—"

"Then, I fell," Brennan interrupted him, some of the bitterness and resentment and regret she felt stealing into her voice. "I fell."

She looked up at him, her eyes so clear a blue in that moment that it was almost as if he was looking into the sky on a perfect warm spring day when there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He swallowed once, almost afraid of what she was going to say next.

_What now? _he thought miserably.

"I know what happened to me," she said as she blinked a couple of times at him, clearly waiting for some spark of understanding and clarity to come into his eyes.

At a loss, Booth shook his head after she kept staring at him for almost a full minute. "I don't understand―"

"I know what happened to me," she repeated softly. "I know about it, Booth."

"Know about what?"

"Everything," she said, her voice cracking a bit as she uttered the single word. "I know about it all. I know about the pregnancy―I know that the procedure took. I know that I was almost five weeks along at the time of the accident. I know that when I fell, the trauma induced a miscarriage. I know it all."

With each word she spoke, Booth continued to pale a bit as his heart dropped deeper and deeper towards the floor. He knew then that it was not just her loss, and the way she felt that loss, that pained him as he heard her speak. It was his loss, the loss of what could have been―their baby, and the life they could have built around that child, together…a chance, an opportunity had been lost for him, as well―and that gutted him in those moments as he listened to her words.

"I know about it all," she repeated. "And...as hard as it was finding out about all of those things from my damn medical records...you have no idea what it was like after everything that had happened to find out by reading the medical jargon that basically said our child died because my body wasn't good enough or strong enough to protect her and keep her safe long enough for her to be born―but, fine. That happened. It's said and done. But, what I want to know is...why did it happen like that? Why did I have to find out by myself instead of from you?"

For a moment, Booth winced as if she'd once again taken a knife and begun to jab him at random places in his belly which each word she spoke, with each truth she revealed. Gasping for breath, as he realized just how much she'd known, for how long, and in what way she found out, it made him feel so badly that a wave of nausea almost made him want to pass out from the pain of it all.

"I'm so sorry," he finally said when he found his voice once more. "I'm so sorry, Bones―about everything, but especially about the baby. I know you wanted her so very much―"

"I don't care about any of that," Brennan waved him off. "That is, I can't―I...I-I just...please. Just answer my question. Why didn't you tell me what happened?"

Absentmindedly, Booth lifted a hand to the back of his head as he ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to put together a sentence that would begin to answer the single question that he'd been knowing he'd have to tell her for months if and when she ever found out what he'd done. After a moment, he sighed and looked away, a point on the brickwork of her apartment's far wall suddenly becoming very interesting to him. However, Booth could still feel her eyes weighing heavily on him in clear expectation of his answer. Sighing heavily, he knew the time had at last come for him to pay the piper and give her an answer.

"Okay," he sighed. "Okay―the truth of the matter's this...I was going to tell you about it. I was going to tell you everything. I swear I was. But, the timing just never seemed right."

As soon as the last words were out of his mouth, Booth looked over to see what his partner's response to his somewhat lame explanation would be. He expected many possible reactions―anger, curiosity, or confusion, just to name a few. What he never expected was the look of intense anguish that washed across Brennan's face as soon as he'd spoken.

"What?" he asked, unconsciously taking a step towards her. "What is it?"

"It's just that that's always been our problem, hasn't it?" Brennan unintentionally sobbed slightly. "Timing? From the very start, that's always been the issue. Our timing has never been right."

"No," he said firmly. "To hell with timing. To hell with the past, Bones. What happened in the past is said and done. Finito. Finished. In the can. But, now…_right_ now? _Now's_ the only time we have control over—now's the only time where we can make a difference. So, right now we're in the same time and in the same place, so why can't we start over? Why can't we make things right?"

"Because," she said, her voice faint as she spoke. "It wouldn't be right…because none of it would be real, Booth—none of it would be real."

"Why do you keep saying that?" he asked, shaking his head as much in frustration at her stubborn insistence as in his disbelief of the actual statement.

"Because," she repeated. "We're not…we're not meant supposed to be together. Now, I'm not saying I believe in fact or anything—hell, I'm not sure what I believe anymore. But, I do know that the circumstances aren't optimum between us for a relationship to develop now anymore than before I fell."

"Jesus, Bones," Booth whispered, sighing in heavy exasperation. "We're not a science experiment."

"I know that," Brennan said. "But, I also know that—" her words trailed off for a moment. Then, suddenly, she lifted her gaze back to his. "Look…you and me—if we were really meant to be together, then the baby…don't you see, Booth? When I lost her, it was for a reason. And, I think that reason was because you and I…it's just not how things are supposed to go."

He stared at her for a moment, clear disbelief writ all over his face. _God, almighty…why did Bones have to decide to believe in fate now? Because, you can call it whatever you want, Bones, but phrase like 'for a reason' and 'how things are supposed to go'? Well, if that's not singing fate's tune, I don't know what is._

"Bones," he began after another minute, as he absentmindedly ran his finger though his hair in a small attempt to vent some of his growing frustration. "About…about the baby—"

"I'm not blaming you," she began, her voice a bit more timid when she spoke of the child. "I…that is, I'm not blaming you for what happened to me, and I hope that you don't blame me. But, if you did, I wouldn't…well, I'd understand why you felt that way."

"Bones," he groaned. "I don't blame you. What happened…it was an accident—a tragic, terrible, horrible accident."

"But, I still lost her," she said, some of the previous emotion beginning to choke her sinuses once more. "I-I…I…that it…well, I suppose it's foolish for me to even call the baby a her, right? She was so little…just five weeks. Like I said, I read my medical records. Although there was some cramping and bleeding, they didn't even do a dilation and curettage…the miscarriage just happened naturally."

Booth looked at her, some pain coming into his eyes as he sought hers out. "I know, Bones," he whispered. "I was there. You may not know this, but I was there…every minute, every day…I was there when you were miscarrying the baby."

Brennan stared a bit open mouth at his words, and she remained silent as he continued, his own voice becoming thick with raw emotion as he spoke.

"Not everything's in your medical chart, you know?" he began tentatively, his voice cracking a bit with the emotion he was trying to keep under control so he didn't frighten her. "I was…I was going to tell you. The only two people who knew were me and Max. We wanted to keep it that way, just in case…well, we wanted you to have the privacy to tell or not tell people as you wanted to…once you woke up that is." He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath before he continued. "You know, I never, not for one second…I never thought you wouldn't wake up. I knew that wouldn't happen—I knew that you wouldn't leave me, leave us. And, you didn't. So, I knew I just had to ride it out and wait. I just had to wait for you to wake up and blink those beautiful blue eyes at me. And you know what? Eventually, you did, Bones. You did. And, then—"

He stopped, swallowed once and then took another breath before going on as he gave her a crucial part of the puzzle she'd been missing from her assessment of the situation.

"We wanted to protect you. That is, _I _wanted to protect you. I wanted…I was just so happy when you woke up. And, it was such a miracle, Bones. Everyone…most everyone thought that you wouldn't make it. Or, if you did, that there'd be problems…brain damage…physical trauma that you'd need extensive rehabilitation for…but, I knew better. I knew you just needed time and space to come to grips with everything…to get stronger. And, I promised myself that I'd tell you about the baby as soon as I thought you were strong enough, and when I was certain that you'd trust me enough to let you help me through it. I guess that last part was a bit selfish, but it's what I thought…how I felt. And, then, you went back to work, and things started to change even more than they already had. You…you started to pull away from me, and I thought, if I can't help her, maybe someone else like Gordon Gordon can. I thought, maybe he can get to her and bring her close enough back towards me that I can bridge the gap that was growing so big between us."

His words trailed off as he struggled with his thoughts.

Brennan, for her part, waited a couple of minutes and then said, "I'm sorry…so sorry."

"For what?" he choked.

"For…everything," Brennan told him. "For going to the church when we went to question Grant, for falling, for losing the baby…for pushing you away. I've caused you so much pain, Booth…and that's when I haven't even really been trying to…I mean, I know that doesn't sound right, but can you imagine the damage I'd do to you if we were really together? The person I am here and now…that's all she does. She causes pain and sorrow and brings no laughter or light or joy to those people that have the misfortune to form some warped and twisted emotional attachment to her. And…I'm sorry, but you still have a chance to get out—to cut your losses and find someone who'll love you for the rest of your life."

"No," he breathed.

"Yes," Brennan insisted. "You…y-you thought you were protecting me, but you're the one who needs protecting."

"Protecting from what?" he sputtered, unable to believe he was hearing the words Brennan was actually speaking.

"From me!" she countered. "I'm…I'm not like you. I can't…the woman I am here and now can't—I can't love you the way you need to be love or be worthy of being loved by you."

"Oh, God, Bones, no—" he breathed. "No, no, no." Shaking his head, he said, "Please, Bones…don't push me away. Let me…I care about you, so much. Just…don't push me away. Give me a chance. That's all I'm asking."

"No," Brennan insisted. "No, you've said it yourself; the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome."

He reached out to her and grabbed her hand. In that moment, he intertwined his fingers with her and gave her a hopeful squeeze. "Well, then let's go for a different outcome here, alright?" Brennan looked at his skeptically, but didn't try to loosen her hand from his grasp. "Let's just—hear me out, alright?" She gave him another quizzical look, but slowly nodded her head. "You know when you talk to older couples who, you know, have been in love for 30 or 40 or 50 years, alright, it's always the guy who says 'I knew.'…well, I knew. Right from the beginning."

"No," Brennan said. "If you did, you would've come after me that day in your office. If you knew, you would've come after me and not let me go…that day, or any of the hundreds of opportunities that you had between now and then."

"So, I'm a slow learner," he smiled. "But, it doesn't make the fact of the matter any less true. I'm that guy. Bones, I'm that guy. I know…and more importantly I know that I know…and what it means."

A look of panic again crossed her face as she said sadly, "I…I-I am not a gambler. In this time and place, I can't…I can't be the person I need to be to love you. She can't…she can't change. She's…no, _I'm_ a scientist. I can't change. That's who she is, and that's who I have to be…so, I don't know how. I don't know how to not be her. I have to be who I am in the here and now…and I can't…I can…I can never be who I need to be to love you, Booth…or to be the woman that you can love." She stopped as she saw his brow furrow in strong emotion. "Please don't look so sad," she whispered. "Please don't."

"You don't get to do that," he said, a bit of anger coming into his voice for the very first time since he'd burst into her apartment on a one-manned mission to make things right for both of them. "So, just stop it, Bones. Cut it the fuck out."

"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped, some of her sadness quickly transitioning into anger at his own response. "I'm so sick of everyone thinking that they know what's better for me than I do," she added, the irritation clear in her voice.

"Well, you know what?" Booth countered. "Maybe if you could just step away from what's happened to you―even if it was just for a single minute, you'd see you were the only one who was going through some pretty terrible shit here, Bones." He stopped, a pained look reasserting itself on his face as his jaw tightened and his nostrils flared once more. "You know―she was my child, too."

Brennan's eyes darted to meet his, obviously surprised as Booth mentioned their child in a context that went beyond the point of him having not told Brennan about the miscarriage.

"She was my child, too," he repeated. "And, just like you lost her, I lost her, too, Bones―I lost her...just like I spent nine days and nights scared out of my mind that I was going to lose her mother, too."

Brennan was silent for a moment and then brushed a few tears away as she said, "I'm sorry I put you through that."

"You woke up," he said. "After everything that happened, you still woke up and healed and are here and now with me…so it was worth it. Everything that happened, everything I went through—all of it, Bones. All the hours and days I spent keeping vigil, praying to the Holy Mother and every damn saint I could think of…all the uncertainty I felt of what happened and the mourning I did for what was lost—in the end, it was all worth it. It was worth it…so worth it…because…without that happening, I don't know if I would realized how I feel about you."

"Oh, God, Booth," Brennan sobbed as she realized what he was trying to say. "No—"

"You know, Bones—whatever happened to you while you were asleep? When you woke up? You may've leapfrogged me on the realization part there, Bones, but I caught up pretty quick, I think."

As she looked at him, Brennan gently pulled her hand free of his grasp, stood, and then began to quickly pace in front of her couch.

"I…I can't deal with this," she said. "It's too much…all of it. I can't do this, Booth. They warned me…they warned me that I was arrogant and thought I knew everything, and they were right. That's why…that's why all this happened I think—it was to teach me some grand cosmic karmic lesson—"

At her ramble, a look of confusion suddenly fell across Booth's face. _What in the hell is she talking about?_

"Bones?" he asked.

"I…I-I…I told you what happened for the nine days when I was in the coma, Booth," Brennan began, her voice haltering and shaky. "But, I've never told you…never told anyone the whole truth. There was something more…I didn't even tell Dr. Wyatt."

"What?" he began, uncertain how to ask the question, lest he scare her off from telling them the truth of what they both so desperately needed to hear spoken.

"After I fell…in those first eighteen minutes, something happened to me," she began. "I'm not certain…I don't know what it was. I don't know if it's what some people call a near-death experience or something completely different all together. I do know it was inexplicable…it was…there were people there talking to me. The woman I now know is my grandmother…and my mother. My mother was there, and they both warned me what was going to happen. They told me that I needed to see things from a different perspective. And…I did. After that, after all of that…I did. Oh, God, I did."

"Bones—"

She held up her hand, sniffling a bit as she said, "Please…please let me finish this, or I might not be able to, okay?"

Slowly he nodded.

"I…you know me—the scientist that I am, I'd like to be able to dismiss it as anything else other than some type of supernatural experience that would make a staunch atheist into a firm agnostic. But…there was one thing that made it impossible for me to say it was a dream or a hallucination…one crucial piece of data that my brain never could've come up with by itself, Booth—because it didn't know _how_."

She paused, shook her head, and then said softly, "Before you, I didn't know what love was. I didn't know what it felt like, let alone how to love…but in my dream? The feelings I felt? The one thing that was always there…it _was always there_ was how I felt about you—about how I loved you. And, that's how, when I woke up, I knew that whatever happened to me in those eighteen minutes…I knew it was real. Because, there's no way my brain could fabricate how I felt about you…how I feel about you."

_She loves me,_ a part of him immediately picked out of her heartfelt tearful confession. _Oh, my God…she just said she loves me. SHE LOVES ME._

She looked away from him, her face flushing in clear embarrassment.

He swallowed once before he smiled slightly and sighed, "God, Bones—how can you possibly be this stubborn?" He paused and his smiled even though she didn't see it. "You may be the most stubborn person I've ever met, you know that?"

Even as he spoke, she refused to meet his gaze and remained far way from him and quiet in her embarrassment. Looking down at the floor for a moment—since she was meeting his eyes in that instant anyway—he tried to make sense of the mass of information she'd dumped into his head. After a minute, he looked up and then realized that perhaps a different approach might have better results. Turning so that he could look back over at her, seeing her standing there her body tense with strong emotion, arms crossed defensively against her chest, and her nostrils flaring as she tried to control the erratic nature of her breathing, he recalled a moment from long ago when he'd seen her in much the same pose.

_"You are a bully. You―you grab my arm, just like the judge. You use your gun and your badge to intimidate people," she told him, her voice coming in shortly truncated sentences that she seemed to barely be able to spit out. _

_His cheek still stung from where she'd slapped him. A flash of anger coursed through him as he took a step towards her. "Really? You use your brain to make people around you feel stupid."_

_Her eyes flashed again. Shaking her head, she pointed at him with hate and vitriol clearly showing in her response. "Well, you are a stupid man. I hate you."_

For a split second, the way she carried herself, and the way she was staring at him, it reminded him of a time when she was hurting and in pain and desperately needed him to be the strong one—the one who went after her, the one who didn't let go.

"Bones," he said, "Listen to me."

"No—"

"God, what do I have to do to get you to believe me?" he sighed. He then stopped and inclined his head as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "You know what?" he asked. "You want to know the real answer to why I agreed to father your child, Bones? Do you want to know why I agreed to do it when, in theory, it went against every single bone in my body. Then, okay…here it is―the whole kit and caboodle. I wanted to be with you, Bones, to give myself to you, but I wasn't sure how―or even if you would take me. When you asked for my stuff, I thought, well, I want to give her all of me, but I don't know whether she'll take all of me. But if she wants part of me, and to make something with that part of me―an amazing, beautiful, wonderful child whom she'll love and dote on for the rest of her life―well, that' s better than nothing. It sounds crazy, but I figured I'd rather give you part of me and have you love that part of me, than give you none of me and never have anything with you. Saying it like that, it sounds crazy. It's crazy, but it's how I felt. And, the fact is, Bones, I still want to give myself to you, whatever part you're willing to take."

"No," she said. "You don't mean it."

"Oh, but I do," he said as he leaned forward. "I really do, Bones, because the truth of the matter is that...I love you. I love you. I love you...maybe I should have grown a set and told you this long ago, but―the fact is, I love you."

"God," she cried out, almost as if he had struck. "Please don't say that."

"It's true," he insisted. "I love you…I do. And, I know you love me, too."

"No—" she sobbed. "I—"

"Yes," he said firmly, taking a step towards her and pulling her into his arms.

And, finally, Brennan didn't have any more strength to continue fighting him as she suddenly melted into his warm and loving embrace.

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><p><span>-TBC-<span>

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><p><span>Author's Note -<span> Again, I doff my proverbial cap to the talented, often imitated, never duplicated _dharmamonkey_. As was the case on the last chapter, she was an excellent help in answering my Dharmasera, Inc. call for in-house Boothifying services(not that I gave her much choice in that...heh heh)…so everyone don't forget to tip the monkey if you think of it. As for the story, well…coming up next…well…hmmm. How best to put it…hmmm. Well, all I'll say is that this story has been rated M for a reason. The payoff to all the angst is coming up next, so with the finish line almost in sight, I hope everyone sticks with me just a little bit longer because I've been told the payoff isn't too shabby.~


	19. Ch18:Finally Getting What She Wanted

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

Author's Note - In case you missed it, this story has been rated M…and this chapter is probably the single greatest reason why I rated to M instead of T. So, if you're underage, you really need to skip this chapter and just wait for the epilogue that will be up shortly since it's not meant for people under the legal age of consent (i.e., 18-years old, human not dog years). And, if you are underage and reading this, please still don't tell me. I _still _don't want to know. As for the rest of you, I hope this is a satisfactory payoff for all the angsty torture I've put all my readers through along with Booth and Brennan. And, now, when we last left our intrepidly fearless duo~

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><p><span>Chapter 18 – Finally Getting What She Really Wanted<span>

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><p>They were standing in front of her couch, touching in the way in which she hungered to be touched by him and in a way he craved to touch her. It was a simple gesture, one that was decidedly intimate, but not necessarily overtly sexual in its nature. In her bare feet, she was several inches shorter than his 6'1'' frame, and it made the goal of bending his head down so that he could gently press his forehead to hers very easy to achieve. He let his hands rest lightly on her hips, his hold loose enough so that she could easily get away, if that was what she really wanted. He felt the warmth of her moist breath caress his square and lightly stubbled jaw as she exhaled breath after torturously slow breath in vexing anticipation.<p>

At last, when she'd indulged in the warmth of his embrace for just enough (although, who was she kidding? It would never be enough) she knew that if she didn't end things at that moment that she'd never be able to do so.

Sadly, Brennan sighed as she told him in a quiet voice, already rough because of the amount of crying she'd done, "You don't mean that."

"I do," he breathed instantaneously. "God, I do."

"No," she insisted. "You don't mean it. You can't mean it."

"I mean it," he said, quite truthfully. "I mean it, and then some."

"No―"

"Bones," he pleaded, his right hand coming up from where it had rested on her right hip to caress her arm and shoulder as he smoothly moved his palm over her still clothed body. "I know what I feel."

"I don't doubt that," she said honestly. "But…you're doing this because you feel some misguided sense of duty…obligation―"

"No," he persisted. "I'm doing this because of how I feel about you...and you wouldn't be responding to me like you are if you didn't feel the same way about me."

"It's not real―" she whispered. "I know what I feel for you...but, the _reason_ I feel it…that's the part, Booth. That's the part that's not real."

"If you feel it, then it's real," he countered simply. "It is."

"No," she insisted. "I just…" Her words trailed off as she tried to find a way to convince him, to make him see reason. Struggling to find the words, she finally said, "I'm desperate. That's it. I'm just so desperate to feel the way that I know you're capable of making a woman whom you love feel that I'd do almost anything to feel that way again...but, not this. I won't hurt you like _this_. I won't make you do something that I know you'll wake up tomorrow if we have sex and you'll regret."

"I think," he said, a small smile tugging at the edge his mouth. "That you were the one who once said that between us, that could never happen...didn't you?"

She frowned at his words. His eyes danced brightly, thinking he'd finally made a point for which she'd have no ability to counter logically. After a minute, she sighed. "Yes, I did say that," Brennan reluctantly conceded. "But, not in relation to―"

"Bones," he breathed again. "Tell me this―how did you know...after I went after you that day at the Hoover and apologized about the Cleo Eller case…after I stopped you and wouldn't let you go, how did you know that you were falling in love with me?"

"It wasn't you," Brennan quickly corrected him. "I mean, it was, but it wasn't."

"You're playing semantics with me," he lightly admonished her. "Answer the question, Bones."

"It...that is, there wasn't a single moment," Brennan eventually answered. "It...just...there wasn't any one moment where I can say that I started to love you. It just...it just happened. And, then, one day, I realized it eventually."

"So," he told her. "If that happened then, why can't that happen here? Why can't the same thing have been happening, just in a slightly different time schedule, huh? And, if it is, why can't this be the day that you realize what you realized then, but only it happened here and now?"

Brennan was at a loss for how to answer his words. Booth, for his part, silently cheered with delight when he realized that he knew he could almost hear the mental cracking of the final shreds of her stubborn resolve giving way to his equally persistent and stubborn onslaught.

"If you want to, trust me," he breathed. "Trust yourself….trust what you're feeling."

"I want to," she said after a moment, her hands seeming to reaffirm her statement as they lightly wrapped around his torso. "God, if you only knew how much I want to...how much I want you."

"Then, just do it," he said with a faint smile that quickly vanished. "Trust yourself...trust, Bones. Just trust."

A fresh set of tears escaped from her watered eyes as she pressed her forehead to his with a renewed sense of force.

"I want to," she said, sounded tempted...so tempted. "God, I want to."

"Just." he whispered, before he brushed his lips in a small and gentle motion across her forehead. "Please―trust." He moved his lips back in the opposite direction as he kissed her forehead again. "Trust," he whispered as he suddenly toed an inch over the line they'd crossed in all but the physical world of touch. There was no longer anything innocent about the way he moved his lips delicately over the pale skin of her forehead. "Trust," he whispered again, trailing another kiss across the trail he'd made for a third time.

He heard her swallow what sounded like a choked sob as she suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around his broad chest, almost as if she was holding onto him almost for dear life. And, in a way, he supposed, maybe she was.

Lowering her head, she pushed her face into the crook of his neck. Pressing her cheek against the rough texture of his stubbled jawline, she didn't care that she was irritating her own soft skin in the process. She inhaled his scent deeply―a simple mixture of the ivory soap he'd used in the shower that morning, the faint and lingering smell of the aloe/menthol of his shaving cream, and the lemony zest of the spray starch from his shirt collar. It was so familiar to her, she almost wanted to breathe a prayer of thanks that at least some things in the world remained consistent.

Booth, for his part, dared to let his hands come up off her hips. He wrapped them lightly around her torso, and began to move the flat palm of both hands up and down the curve of her spinal column in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. His cheek rested against her tilted head, and he scrunched his face as he hoped that her hair wouldn't tickle his nose, cause him to sneeze, and perhaps let something so mundane shatter what was a tenuously beautiful moment. He knew that he shouldn't tempt fate by inhaling deeply, but he was enticed by the lure of smelling her hair.

_Apples_, he thought as he took a deep breath and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. _God, she smells like apples_―_so good. So very good._

If it had been up to one part of him, Booth would've wanted to stay there holding her all day. But, there was another part that was acutely aware that if he'd indeed managed to breach her defenses as he'd thought, if he didn't move quickly, his limited window of opportunity might close if she decided to re-erect the walls that she'd try to haphazardly throw up to separate them.

Taking a breath, he murmured into her ear, "There's no going back from this."

"I know," she whispered as soon as he'd spoken.

"We won't want to go back," he told her confidently.

"I-I.I―" she hesitated.

"You've already been there," he reminded her. "You know what it can be like…what it _will _be like. Just...you've already let me in, so, please, Bones―don't fight me on this. Let me stay. Let me be with you."

"But―"

"No," he reminded her, smiling again. "No, 'buts', remember? Just trust…just trust, and want, and love, Bones."

"You can't mean that," she quickly countered. "I mean, really…why would you want me? You shouldn't want me."

"But, I do," he said. "I want you with every piece of my being…I want you so much it hurts."

"See?" she whispered, her voice small and tiny. "All I do is keep causing you pain."

"Yeah," he chuckled, his voice deep and gravelly as he spoke. "But, this is the good kind of pain…the kind that we can ease really easily….if you'll help me...let me, that is."

Brennan was silent for a moment before she said softly, "How?" she breathed.

"You know how," he chuckled again, stopping the rhythmic rubbing of her back that he'd continued in his cajoling of her.

He brought his hands to her hips again, and gently, ever so gently, shifted his stance so that he softly nudged her legs apart. Brennan's breath caught in her throat as he pressed into her, and she felt the first coherent sign of his arousal firm against her thigh.

"I want you," he whispered into her ear. "I know you can feel that…in more ways then one."

Brennan licked her lips, suddenly aware of how dry her throat and mouth had become. After a minute, she nodded her head slowly even as it lay against the crook of his shoulder.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I can."

"So…now, the question is," he breathed back. "Will you let me?"

"Let you?"

"Yeah, Bones," he told her. "Will you let me love you?"

"But, why?" she asked, the question almost catching in her throat.

Booth couldn't help but chuckle lightly in exasperation at her stubbornness.

"Because, you dense squint," he sighed. "You beautiful, dense squint**. **I love you. I want you. I love you, and want you, and want to make love to you."

"But―"

"No," he said, a bit firmer in his resolve. Then, suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Bones?" he whispered.

"Yes?" she breathed.

"I've got a question I want to ask you," he whispered in her ear. "Will you give me an honest answer?"

"Yes," she replied instantly. "Of course."

"The first time…in your dream...the first time we were together...how did it happen?" he asked. "You...you left that little detail out."

He felt her tense a bit against him, but the tension quickly disappeared as she melted back into him.

"That's a complicated question," she said after a moment.

"Only with you," he chuckled.

"Well, okay," she said. "I guess it depends on how you define 'together'.,,do you mean the first time we had sex, the first time we fucked, or the first time we made love?"

Booth's lips twitched as he considered the fact that she was more finely nuanced in the distinction than he thought. _It's like she's a totally different person..the same, in all the right ways, she's the same...but not. It's.,,it's like there's this part of her, this crucial piece of her that's completely different_―_and I'm going to have to get to know her all over again._

"All three," he eventually answered. "I want to know it all, Bones―everything. Tell me everything."

She laughed at his response and then said, "It's not that long a story since all three happened on the same day. It was…the day you went to Dulles on the day I came back from Guatemala and had Homeland Security detain me for questioning because you wanted me to help you with Gemma Arrington's remains." She stopped, and for the first time, pulled away from him lightly. "We were late to the crime scene…substantially late, because you took me directly from the airport to my apartment, and we ended up in bed about two minutes after I unlocked the front door."

Looking over at the her apartment door, he arched an eyebrow as he let one of his hands fall away from her hip, and he jerked his thumb in the direction of her apartment's entry way. "That wouldn't happen to be that door, now, would it?"

"Mmm hmmm," she nodded. "It was."

"So," he said, an interesting look coming into his eyes. "You unlocked the door, we walked through it, and two minutes later...you ended up in bed with me?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

"And…my next question, Bones...is what happened during the two minutes between when you unlocked the door and you ended up in bed with me?"

"You…uhh, you―" Brennan started to blush a little in an adorable way that made Booth's grin grow wider as he took another step towards her.

"I did what?" he finished the statement for her.

"You...started pulling at the hem of my top," Brennan finished after a minute, tilting her head to look at him.

Again, he took another step towards her, and he tilted his head to match her gaze as he tentatively reached out and let his hand linger just over the hem of her shirt. He looked at her in askance, and when he saw no shake of her head or verbal declaration to cease and desist in doing what they both knew he was asking permission to do―or, perhaps when he saw Brennan's tongue dart out, wet her lips in anticipation, and her eyes finally shine at him with a positive emotion that had banished all the sadness from her gaze―he firmly reached down and grabbed the hem of the shirt in his hand and wrapped his fingers around a bunching of the purple material.

"Like this?" he asked quietly, tugging at the shirt, and in so doing, lifting it just an inch or two above her trousers' waistband, revealing a luscious glimpse of the taut and pale ivory skin of her stomach in the process.

"Yes," she replied, her breath almost catching in her throat as she saw him looking at her in a very familiar way because she _knew _that look―the one that promised that all he'd said at long last _was _true…he loved her, and he wanted her.

"And, then what happened?" he dared to ask.

"You, ummm, you pulled my shirt off," she told him. "Rather ruthlessly, too."

To illustrate her point, he moved so that both of his hands were fisting a bunch of the shiny purple sateen material of her top between his fingers. The silky smooth material contained some lycra that made it stretchy to the touch. He stared at her only for a few seconds, and when she gave him an almost imperceptible nod, he tugged at the square top blouse, pulled it up her torso, along her arms, and off of her head. Brennan moved to aid him as he took the garment and peeled it off of her body, moving first one arm and then the other so that he had greater access of motion. As almost an after thought, he took the slinky material of the royal purple top, glanced down at it as he bunched it in his hands, and then tossed it from his right hand to the left before he let it fall to the ground.

Brennan, once free of the garment, moved to stand up a bit straighter arching her back in a rather feline stretch. Booth watched in appreciation as her pert and upthrust breasts came closer into view. His hands itched to reach up and touch them, but he resisted the urge to ask for more than she was ready or willing to give him.

Arching an eyebrow at her, his voice cracking a bit as he admired the view of her partially clothed torso, he asked, "Next?"

"You had quite the fascination with my breasts," she said with a small smile coming onto her face. "You kept telling me how awesome my tits were as you groped me through my bra."

"I didn't take it off?" he asked, slightly surprised.

Slowly, shaking her head, she laughed, "No, not at first―because, well...I sort of made it very difficult for you to do that."

"And, why's that?"

"Because," she answered. "Just like you'd developed this sudden fascination with my breasts, I developed an almost simultaneous fascination with your belt buckle." She paused, her hand reaching out, hovering just a few inches over the accessory in question.

Booth sentence her hesitation, reached out, took her hand, and covered it with his. Pushing it down so that her hand covered the buckle, he smiled at her as he seemed to hear what she was thinking. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's not...I'm real, Bones. This isn't a dream. It's not…you won't wake up somewhere and find out that none of this was real, that none of it happened. I swear―I swear to God. I won't disappear. I'm real―_this is real_."

"I'm afraid," she finally managed to tell him, although she still didn't remove her hand. "If you're not right, Booth―I can't do it a second time. I can't have you and then lose you and keep it together all over again. I'll crack for good, and then that'll be the end of me."

"I know, baby," he soothed. "I know―but, remember what we're doing here?"

She looked up and met his gaze with a wide-eyed look as she slowly nodded. "Trust," she told him.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Trust."

He felt her fingers flex under his as he continued to coax her back to confidence.

"Trust," he said, leaning in and placing his mouth close to her ear, but not quite touching it. "It's easy. I know you remember how to do it."

His moist breath caused the tiny hairs in her ears to feel slightly ticklish. Feeling emboldened by his words and touch, she asked, "How to trust...or how to touch you?"

"Both," he laughed, pressing his lips to her earlobe.

He placed a tiny kiss in the soft skin, just a fluttery whisper of a touch. It seemed as if that was all the final encouragement she needed.

Her fingers plucked at the 'Cocky' belt buckle, one that was very familiar, but just different enough from the gilded brass Army buckle of the scenario that she'd been describing for him that it reminded Brennan that she wasn't reliving the past―she was living a new future.

Quickly, very quickly, she'd work the clasp on the buckle free and gently began to pull at the black leather of his belt, tugging it steadily through each loop in a way that made Booth want to squirm at tortuously pleasant sensation. When she'd worked the belt completely free, she let it fall to the ground with a satisfying _thunk_ that she only stopped for a few seconds to admire before she let her fingers go to the button of his suit trousers. She hesitated only for the briefest of seconds before she let her fingers pull at the zipper, the z_iiipp _sound her actions resulted in making both their heart rates increase along with the already steady pulsing of their mutual arousals.

When Brennan saw the solid dark green color of his jersey knit boxers peaking back at her when she'd almost finished peeling away his pants, she felt further heartened. Booth couldn't help himself as he felt her nimble fingers tug at the elastic waistband of the boxers once, twice, three times before she found enough confidence to dip below and reach inside for him. She found _exactly_ what she'd expected, and a small smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she wrapped the slim fingers of her right hand around his stiff cock. It wasn't a move she'd exactly intended to inflame his desire. She touched him just as much to reassure herself that this was real, and she was finally getting what she really wanted, and touching him in a way that left no doubt in either of their mind's that they'd ever be 'just partners' ever again. The incredible pressure of her hand on his cock made Booth close his eyes as he suddenly went from the pursuer to the pursued. He found it difficult to concentrate on _anything _but her―the sight, the smell, and the touch of her. And, as she continued to stroke him in a way in which he continued to lose more and more ability to think beyond anything but her, Booth realized he desperately wanted to add taste to the last of things that he could concentrate on as she lightly fondled him with a firm, but steady hand.

"Bones," he finally managed to growl, his voice incredibly rough and already a full octave lower than it had just been a couple of minutes earlier.

The smile that had been tugging at her lips now broke into a full blown naughty grin as she raised her eyes to meet his. The cool blue eyes contained a spark of passionate joy that Booth had only seen there one time before in his entire life―a single time that had been so brief as they'd kissed in anticipation of sharing a lust-fueled and tequila-clouded cab ride to her apartment―and over the ensuing years,he'd all but forgotten that she could look at him in _that _particular way. There was no fear, no doubt in her eyes as she stared back at him―only a familiar longing as she sought to please and to show him exactly how much she loved him.

It was hardly necessary as Brennan continued to pump him, letting the soft smoothness of her fist drive Booth wild as she created a small vacuum of pressure that caused him to groan when she moved her hand along the delicately veined and incredibly soft skin of his rigid length. She increased the tempo slightly, only wanting to show him that there were some benefits to the burden of five years of memories that she'd somehow gained...whether they were real or not, the technique she employed as she slowly, but steadily drove him out of his ever-living mind proved the truth of them.

Booth closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heady sensation of her touch wash over him, his head lolling to one side as his breath came in short, rapid gasps. His hips all but jerked in response as she gently released his cock. When she had decided to dip her hand lower in search of another way to please him with her touch, a sharp bark of awareness brought him out of the incredible swelling of pleasure that she'd pulled him into without him even realizing it.

_Jesus_, a voice whispered in his mind. _Not that I ever doubted her, but how in the hell can she know to touch me like that if she's __never__ done this before?_

"I've always known how you liked to be touched," her voice shyly answered, and for a moment, Booth was so stunned, he wondered if he muttered the words he'd thought out loud.

Looking up at her, his face flushed as he realized he was wearing incredibly too much clothing, he grinned stupidly at her as he somehow gathered enough will power to reach down, clasp her hand, and pull it out of his boxer**s**. Bringing it to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss on her wrist, and then slowly intertwined his fingers with hers.

"You're going to have to teach me," he gulped, his breath coming in jagged gasps as he shifted his hips in a way to bring any type of relief to the tortuous sensation he felt at her fingers' absence and the way his boxers and pants now restrained him in what was becoming all too much an unpleasant way.

"I will," Brennan said as she raised their joined hands to her lips and gently placed a kiss of her own on top of it in an incredibly sweet and symbolic way that mimicked Booth's earlier actions. "But, I doubt you'll need much help," she told him. "You've always been able to make me squirm with just a single glance of your incredibly sexy brown eyes whenever you want to―"

Her voice trailed off as she stared at him in expectation of a response at her confession.

Booth's tongue darted out of the corner of his mouth as he absentmindedly traced a wet path across his lower lip. "Is that so?" he finally managed to ask**, **his voice low and choked as he looked at her.

Slowly, she nodded.

"Hmmm," he responded. "Then, I guess me picking you up, having you wrap your legs around me, and carrying you to the bedroom would probably be overkill or something, huh?"

Brennan pursed her lips for a split second, playfully seeming to consider his response, before he pounced. Using their joined hands as a way to gain momentum, he pulled her quickly towards him. He then released her long enough to place a firm grasp on her slim hips as he gently lifted her a foot or two off the ground. Brennan, eager to assist him in any way necessary, used what momentum she could gather by pressing off the ground into a small leap so that their combined efforts allowed them to gain enough force so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. Her hands came around his neck, and before either realized what had happened, Booth's plan to carry her directly into the bedroom was slightly delayed by Brennan reaching out and searching for his lips with hers.

In a way, it was their first _real_ kiss.

He wanted her, she wanted him, both knew it, and for the first time, both of them were in the same place at the same time and both knew that the promise of something more would be, at last, happily fulfilled.

She was greedy for the taste of him, and although the passion of her insistent touch shouldn't have surprised him, the intense ardor of her kiss made it seem almost as if she wanted to suck out his soul as her lips began to work his over. There was nothing delicate or hesitant about the way her opened mouth slammed against his, her tongue immediately thrusting into his, harshly demanding entrance. She didn't stop to wait for preliminary niceties by bothering with something as mundane as letting a closed-lipped kiss gradually transition into one where body fluids were already being exchanged. She leaned forward, pressing her body against his and tightening her grasp on his head, holding it more firmly against hers―although such a move was hardly necessary. A lightheadedness had already set in for the pair, as much from the increasing throb of their arousals as from a lack of oxygen.

By the time that Brennan had plunged her tongue into the depths of his mouth for the third or fourth time, forcing herself as far back into her mouth as she could―so that Booth would swear she almost brushed his tonsils, he knew things were going far too quickly as compared with how'd he'd originally pictured making love to her for the first time. A small sliver of his sole remaining ability to think coherently―the one that was thinking about how to slow things down so he could make things last for them―promptly went out the window when he heard Brennan began to make a purring sound at the back of her throat. It caused his stiff cock to ache even more than it already was, his hardness gaining a new level of pain that he'd never imagined possible as the hooking sensation behind his navel grew more and more insistent. He needed relief, and if he didn't get it soon―preferably buried as deeply as possible between the sleek and warm folds of her as he pressing inside her body, he thought he might actually go crazy from want of release…and want of her.

That was how his body seemed to move them on autopilot quickly, if a bit awkwardly―as Brennan's mouth remained focused on sucking the life out of him, her lips greedy and demanding as her wet tongue dueled with his―in the direction of her bedroom.

By the time he'd kicked open her partially-closed bedroom door, moved toward the unmade bed, and fallen as gently as he could onto his back―and taken Brennan with him―she'd already made a decent amount of progress at ceasing in their efforts to see if they could break the world record for longest kiss without taking an actual breath of air in order to unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt.

When he felt her slim fingers pull the final button lose, and her eager hands thrust inside his now open shirt, a small part of his brain wondered in clear admiration, _How in the hell did she just do that? _Then, a louder voice drowned it out as it said, _Who in the hell cares as long as she keeps doing it?_

Suddenly feeling as if he were falling behind in the count, a surge of adrenaline renewed Booth's focus as he rolled them over so that he was covering her body with his, Brennan already writhing underneath him, despite the fact that he'd barely touched her…and that fact only encouraged him all the more.

"Need you," she finally managed to croak when he'd rolled them over again for better access to get rid of her cumbersome bra and annoying pants. "Oh, God, Booth―I need you."

"I'm, err...I'm trying, Bones," he muttered, his hands finally succeeding in getting her trousers unbuttoned, unzipped, and off her hips. "But, I sorta need to get you naked first before, I can, uhhh, really do anything else―"

Brennan didn't need to be told twice. Within the course of sixty seconds, she reluctantly rolled away from him, stood up, and quickly divested herself of her bra, trousers, and nude-colored mesh hipster panties. By the time she slipped back into bed, Booth too was finally free of what remaining clothing he'd been wearing. For a moment, as she crawled towards him on all fours, her full breasts hanging low and her hair falling forward in a beautiful divided curtain of auburn shininess, the hooking coil that Booth felt behind his navel reminded him how much he wanted this woman, how much he needed her, and how likely it was that he might just go crazy if he didn't possess her in a minute or less.

A low growl escaped his throat as he moved to accommodate her logistically, welcoming in her with open arms. For a brief second, part of his brain reminded him how beautiful she looked―skin creamy and smooth, breasts full and deliciously grabbable, her pert nipples a dusky rose that, a strange part of him wondered, seemed to be almost the same dark color as her tongue. A part of him longed to stop and admire her, draw out their foreplay for longer than the pleasurably painful pastime had already lasted. But, in the end, the need to feel himself enveloped by her won out when he reminded himself that there would be time enough for that later in fairly short order.

_For now, just take her,_ a voice whispered in his mind. _Do it_―_now._

And, so, he did.

Reaching for her, he maneuvered them so that he was once more on top of her. Brennan didn't seem to protest as he quickly let her know that there time for play was done. If anything, she signaled her tacit approval of his escalation of things as she grinded her pelvis up against his very hard erection.

"Oh, God, Bones," he groaned, almost losing his concentration as he tried to keep his weight off of her by bolstering his body away from crushing hers by steadying himself with his forearms. "God―"

"Booth," she pleaded, arching her back as she tried to get some relief from the insane throbbing that made her world start to go white…and he hadn't even slipped inside her yet. "_Please_," she whispered.

As trite as the saying was, as he took her plea to heart, felt himself start just slightly when one of her hands came between them as she guided him towards her wet folds. He sighed in thankful anticipation when he felt how she lined up his cock to the warmth of her entrance, he wondered if God had actually made her for him as he slid home. With each inch he pressed into her, her tightness drew him deeper, particularly when she moved to wrap her legs lightly around his waist to give him a greater angle for depth of penetration.

"Oh, God, Bones―" he groaned again, as he pressed inside her. She was so wet and ready for him, it didn't take much until he was seated to the hilt. As he luxuriated in the feeling of how right it felt to be inside her finally, he suddenly thought how important it was that she believe what he'd said earlier.

"Booth," she moaned, arching her back as she used her legs to press him down further into her―if such a thing were possible― "_Booo-thhh_."

Swallowing once, he squeezed his eyes shut as he resisted the almost overwhelming need to move in her. Then, snapping them open, he sought out her glassy-eyed gaze.

"Bones?" he whispered.

"Booth?" she said, a strange look coming onto her face as she met his look.

"Want you," he finally managed to utter. "Know that?"

"_Yeeessss_," she answered, as she again shifted, trying to urge him into motion.

Booth rewarded her response as he withdrew slightly and stoked into her a couple of times, almost finally going out of his mind as he did so.

Keeping his eyes open, he purposely kept his pace at an agonizingly slow measure.

"Trust?" he breathed as he pulled back and again thrust into her.

Brennan arched her back as she kept from closing her eyes as she felt the crest of her impending orgasm almost crash over her.

"God, _yeeesss_," she hissed. "Always."'

"Love you," he whispered as he felt a warmth blossom in his chest, the final sign he needed to press forward without any fears or concerns as to what would come next. "Love you," he whispered with each thrust as he moved in and out of her, knowing it wouldn't take more than a few more strokes before he'd come. "Love you," he grunted, a final time, the feel of her clenching walls telling him that she'd come first even if she hadn't groaned his name in one final, excruciatingly beautiful moan.

And, a few seconds later, as he exploded within her, and literally saw stars blind him as he collapsed on top of her, it suddenly became clear to both that everything, finally, was just as it was meant to be.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

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><p><span>Author's Note<span> - continued - Standard Personal Obscure Shoutout: Special thanks to somemonkey…she knows for what. Coming up next…well, there's only the epilogue left before this story is in the can. So, we're almost across the finish line. Just a few more steps to go...I hope everyone will stay tuned for the final conclusion. Until then….~


	20. Epi:As It Was Meant To Be

Eighteen Minutes

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: For 18 minutes, Dr. Temperance Brennan was clinically brain dead before resuscitation pulled her back only for her to fall into a coma. When she finally wakes up, Brennan must cope with overwhelming losses and an ensuing crisis of faith. AU.

Logistical Notes on the Story: Please see the earlier chapters for the picky details.

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><p><span>Epilogue – As It Was Meant To Be<span>

* * *

><p>It had taken them time.<p>

It was hard for Brennan, letting go of the past. But, a little more each day, she filled her life with true memories of the real life she was building with Booth. And, each day, the memories of her dream world faded a little bit more. True, she'd never forget them. But, each day, she needed them a little less than she had as compared to the prior day. Gradually, the colors and textures of that world grew a little less brilliant, a little less sharp in her recall. And, in their place stood a slew of new opportunities experienced in a world where she loved Booth, Booth loved her, both knew it, and there was nothing keeping them from being together.

A couple of months after the fateful day when Brennan had made her confession to Booth about why she'd wanted to end their partnership, the truth of their feelings about one another had come out, they'd made love for the first time, and began a real relationship, the reemergence of the Gravedigger case had shaken the forensic anthropologist more than she'd come to realize. Since her miscarriage and gradual return to work—because, with his cajoling, she'd eventually seen the folly in not rescinding her letter of resignation—with Booth's help, she'd made progress at rectifying the woman she was with the woman she remembered into the new woman she wanted to be. But, the process took time, and that healing was interrupted when Heather Taffet came back into their lives.

Feeling frustrated and exhausted over the woman's sociopathic challenge, Brennan had left the lab early when it became clear that Booth would be tied up at the Hoover and there was no point in waiting for him at the Jeffersonian. She promised herself that the best thing to do was to go home and wait for him there after indulging in a hot bath and enjoying a glass of red wine so that she could come back in the morning rested and rejuvenated. However, the longer Booth was delayed, the less Brennan was able to relax.

And, that was how she'd ended up with some of the case files related to Taffet spread out all over her dining room table—never having taken her bath nor had the glass of wine she'd promised herself. After several hours, she got up out of the chair in which she'd been hunched for so long, cracked her aching back, and set both hands on the table as she tried to figure out what she was missing as her eyes roamed over the stacks on the table. She knew there was _something _she needed to see, but the harder she stared at the files, the more the black ink of the printed words swam in front of her tired eyes. Eventually, she heard the turn of the key in the deadbolt of her apartment's front door. Glancing over at the digital clock on her microwave in the kitchen from where she was standing, Brennan sighed when she realized how late it was as Booth let himself into the apartment.

Stopping only long enough to bolt the lock behind him, Booth blew into the apartment like a gust of wind, something obviously fueling his burst of energy despite the lateness of the hour. Nodding at her, he gestured with an FBI file folder he held partially folded in his hand.

"So. the Gilroy kid? He was last seen at the Rockland Mall on June 23. I'm gonna check all Taffet's credit card records for that day, too," he began, not bothering to even say hello.

Brennan, not one to take offense given how hungry she was for anything that might lead to something on Taffet, merely tilted her head as she considered his words. Instead of castigating him for his brusque greeting, she merely frowned and slowly shook her head as she stared at her partner and boyfriend.

Sadly, she responded, "Caroline said you can't give expert testimony if she's prosecuting your case."

Taking a step towards her, Booth waited until her had her gaze focused on him before he explained, "I told Caroline to drop my charges, too."

Brennan gave him a strange look as he told her what he'd done without telling her. It was a mixture of awe, gratitude, uncertainty, fear…and love.

"I'm not gonna let you do this alone," he continued, his voice firm in its resolve. "She's gonna see the judge tomorrow morning at 10, and then we can dive in on all this."

Placing her hands on the table, the burst of warmth she felt at his confession made her love him even more in that moment, if such a thing was possible.

"Thanks, Booth," she said with a grim smile on her face.

"We're partners," he said, wanting to take a step toward her, but uncertain if the physical contact he ached to share with her would be welcome or not, given how much he knew the case was weighing on her. "That's what we do—right?"

She nodded slowly, and her smile grew a bit larger as he waited for her answer. After she'd given it, Brennan felt the overwhelming sense of negativity that she'd felt since the Taffet case had come to dominate their lives in recent days reassert itself. "If Taffet is acquitted on this count, she can never be tried again. Maybe that's why she wanted us to find the boy."

"Yeah," Booth agreed. "Well, she's arrogant, like Sweets said." _You can beat her any day of the week with one hand tied behind your back, Bones. She knows that and that's why she's try to throw you off your game. But, I know how wonderful you are, and we're not gonna let this bitch rock us, baby. We just aren't. We'll get her. You'll see. _Hoping to bolster her confidence a bit, Booth nodded once more as he added, "And, she's misjudging you."

Brennan was quiet for a moment and then walked away from the table, placing her hand on the small of her back as she began to pace. _I don't want to tell him this, but I have to_, she thought. _He deserves to know._

"I have nightmares, Booth," she began, her voice quiet but somewhat unsteady as she explained. "Hodgins is bleeding…you're drowning." She stopped as she felt a surge of emotion deposit a thick knot in her throat. Shaking her head as she told herself that she was not shedding another damn tear because of Taffet, she paused as she drew in a deep breath before she continued. "I…I-I can't help anyone."

Unable to afford her the luxury of coming to him, Booth followed his instinct as he set the file folder he carried on the table and quickly closed the distance between them. "Alright, you know what?" he asked as he walked towards her and extended his arms. Brennan hesitated for a moment, and like he often did, Booth knew he needed to tempt her into trusting herself. "She's never gonna get the better of you, alright?" He leveled his strong and reassuring gaze at her and refused to look away until he saw a flicker in her blue eyes that told him he was very close to getting her to concede the point. He gestured with his hands again as he said, "Just know that. Alright?" Slowly she nodded as she allowed him to pull her into his strong embrace. "I promise. Okay?" he breathed into her ear as she nestled her head into the crook of her neck.

"Okay," she finally agreed quietly.

He held her for a moment, and then gave her one final squeeze before he murmured into her ear, "You're exhausted."

"No," she immediately protested, although her body seemed to betray her as she yawned slightly in spite of herself as she pulled away slightly. "I'm okay."

"Bones―" he began as he gave her a knowing look. "Come on, I can tell."

"I _am_ tired," she finally conceded. "But, just a little bit." She paused and then sighed before she added, "It's more a feeling of being emotionally overwhelmed than anything else."

"You need to sleep," he said, his voice gentle but firm as he tried to convince her that he was right. "I'll stay with you. I won't go anywhere. I won't leave you. I'll hold you the entire night if you need me to―I promise."

"No," she quickly countered with a firm shake of her head. "As nice as that sounds, it's not happening, Booth."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because," she said. "Even if you're there…if I fall asleep without having a lead on this case, I know I'm going to dream about her…and I can't do that. In the end, It'll just do more harm than good."

"Bones―" he said softly, knowing he was going to fight a losing battle with her, given how stubborn she was being despite in exhaustion. But, for her sake, he knew that he still had to try. "You've got to sleep."

"And, I will," Brennan promised. "I will, eventually―" She stopped and then, a bit of the fight going out of her, she added, "I just can't…I just…not right now, okay? I need to…I just need to feel like I'm in control of something. As long as you're here with me, I promise―I'll try to go to sleep eventually. I will. I promise I will. Just, please―not now, okay? I won't go back to the lab before I get a couple hours of sleep."

"Bones," he sighed. "You're making me worry about you, ya know?"

"I don't mean to," she said honestly. "And, as long as you're here with me, I will sleep, eventually. I promise."

"You promise?" he said, his resolve giving in more and more with each second that ticked by them.

She nodded wordlessly.

"You know...I'm not leaving you," he reassured her with a light squeeze of his arms. "I'm never leaving you―not ever."

"I know," she sighed she reached for him once again. Booth immediately closed the distance between them and folded her into his strong arms. "I know. And, that makes me love you more than I already do."

"I just―" Booth's voice trailed off. "I know this hasn't been easy for you, Bones."

"No," she agreed. "It's been difficult―having to face everything…dredging up a part of my past that I hadn't really dealt with in some time, despite all that's happened to us. But, even still―maybe, now, it's worse dealing with Taffet." She stopped and then sighed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled away just enough so that she could look into his eyes―more to reassure herself than anything else. "I just…I can't stand it that she almost took you away from me...and if she had, none of this would've ever happened―the good or the bad…all of it never would've happened, and we never would've gotten to where we are right now. And, that terrifies me, Booth. It absolutely terrifies me."

"But, she didn't, ya know?" he sighed, as he watched her close her eyes and hoped that she was finally letting the reassuring warmth of his strength flow back into her instead of flashing to when Taffet had kidnapped him and locked him in a boat the year before...something at the time that had greatly affected her, but even more since she'd fallen and woken up. "She didn't. You found me because you were better than she was. You found me, and you saved me… just like I knew you would."

"I didn't have a choice," Brennan said simply, a bit of strain coming into her voice as she spoke. "I had to because…even if I didn't want to admit it at the time, I don't know what I would do if I lost you. I knew even then...I'd do whatever I had to do to get to you. I couldn't give up. I just couldn't."

"Of course you didn't," he responded as tightened his arms around her once more. "And, that's why I'm right here, Bones."

"I know that," she said. "I know that…I just―I just can't tell you how damn scared I was."

"I know," he replied in a soft whisper. "I was, too."

"I can't―" Brennan's voice trailed off. "I can do whatever you need me to do, but I don't know what I'll do if I ever lose you."

"You won't," he promised once more. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"I know that," she nodded. "I know that, and I trust it…I trust you, I trust us, I just―"

As she spoke, Booth tilted his head, and suddenly he interrupted her by slipping his tongue into her mouth. The kiss was soft and gentle, and after a few seconds, they pulled apart.

Smiling, as he was quite pleased with himself, Booth nodded at her and said, "There. I like that part."

"What part?" Brennan replied with an arched eye.

"The part where your tongue was kissing me just like it always has," Booth explained. "It, apparently, doesn't know any difference between when you were sticking it in my mouth before Taffet's trial started versus right now, Bones, and I find that not only very reassuring, but sexy as hell."

Reaching up, she gently stroked his cheek with the soft pad of her thumb as she said, "Is that your way of telling me something, right?"

"I think," Booth said tentatively. "I'd like it a whole hell of yourself if you'd stop beating yourself up long enough to put Taffet aside and take some time for yourself, Bones―for us. Just for a few hours…if you don't want to sleep right now, that's okay, I guess. Because, you're right―we'll sleep eventually. But, for now…if you'll let me, I have an idea or two of what we could do that has absolutely nothing to do with Taffet, everything to do with us, and would definitely make both of us feel a whole hell of a lot better than we do right now."

She smiled as she recognized his look. "Are you trying to seduce me, Booth?" she asked.

"Hey," he said. "I'm not the one who said she didn't want to go to sleep. So, since we've gotta pass the time anyway, I'm just throwing out some possibilities, Bones."

"That sounds like seduction to me," Brennan said as she smiled when she felt him draw away from her just enough that he tugged at the bottom of her white button-down shirt.

He grinned back at her as he pulled the blouse out of her jeans. He fingers were quick to unfasten the six remaining buttons that kept her blouse clad tightly on her curvy form. When he'd worked free the last one, his grin widened even more as he ran his hands up her torso in a smooth line, reached her shoulders and followed the curves of her body as he wiggled the shirt off of her body. It fell to the ground in a nearly silent _whoosh_, and when he saw her nipples had already hardened through the flimsy fabric of her nude-colored bra, as the pink nubs peaked back at him, Booth just about lost it. He reached for her with both hands, wrapping his arms around her waist as he reveled in feeling the pressure of her body against his.

"I'm going to take you to bed now," he said in-between kisses as they made their haphazard way back in the direction of her bedroom. "I'm going to strip you naked, throw you on that bed, and make you forget your own name, I think."

"I have absolutely no problem with that," Brennan grinned as she let him lift her into his arms.

A short time later, once clothes had been haphazardly strewn about her bedroom in their frenzy to continue with their foreplay, Booth moved slowly but steadily on top of Brennan. She'd wrapped her legs around his torso, tucking her ankles so they rested just above the cleft of his gorgeously muscular ass.

Their tempo had built towards something that was faster and harder than either one had anticipated given their acknowledged fatigue. However, Brennan's body hummed with want as Booth moved in her, eliciting a glow that made her creamy skin even more resplendent in its rosiness. For his part, the sweat that beaded on Booth's forehead had already dampened his the short spikes of his hair so that they were slightly wet on his forehead as his tanned skin flushed with want of his impending orgasm...and want of her.

"I love you" he murmured as he pistoned into her, feeling his little self-restraint crumbling each inch he came closer in being seated in her to the hilt. "Oh, God, I love you."

"I know," she whispered as she twisted her hips and arched her back up to meet him as their tempo increased, her slick and wet walls drawing him deeper and deeper with each thrust he made. "Now, show me how much…show me that I didn't lose you…that she didn't take you away from me after all."

"I…almost lost you, too," he grunted, each word falling away from his lips with a gasp of breath as he drew his hips back and forth and felt the twittering at the base of his spine grow more and more demanding. As he moved, neither one could say if he was talking about the time Taffet had buried Brennan alive or because of her fall. In the end, it didn't really matter as he moved, and he grunted as much. "I almost lost you, and, you almost lost me. But, we didn't. Oh, fuck, Bones, we didn't…we didn't―"

"We're here," she cried, a throaty drawl falling away from her voice as his greedy lips sought out hers, and his tongue thrust sweetly into her mouth just as he was using his cock to penetrate her sleek wet folds, even if he'd slowed his pace as they'd whispered to one another. "_Oooohhh_, Booth―"

Opening her eyes to meet his, she smiled and repeated her earlier words. "You haven't lost me, and I haven't lost you. I'm here…right here...and so are you."

Her reassurances renewed both his faith and his focus. As reached for her mouth again, his tongue plunged in and out of her sweetness, eager and angry as he tried to show her how scared he'd been, how close he'd come to allowing the darkness he fought to keep at bay from overwhelming him just as he'd known she fought her own similar battle. Not to be outdone, Brennan allowed her hands to come to Booth's shoulders as she caressed the broad expanse and then dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"God," she pleaded with him in a soft voice her whispery breath falling away from her mouth to dance across the short distance between them until it fell to meet his ears. "Booth―keep…please. Don't stop. I won't break. Please…please let me feel. More, I need more. Go harder….make me feel, please." She then added the word that had become slightly magic between them as she whispered, "_Trust_."

"I love you," he whispered again, as he nodded once, and continued thrusting into her again at an even more frenzied pace, increasing his tempo as moved in and out of her, if such a thing were even possible. "Love you, love you, ohhh, God―I love you."

And, a moment or two later, when her cries mingled with his own―his sweaty body covering hers once more in a gesture that was both protective and loving―both eventually fell quiet but for the gasping of air. Not another word was spoken. In the end, when he slipped out of her, drew her into his arms, and wrapped his arms around her, true to her word, they both eventually slept.

* * *

><p>Booth wasn't having a good afternoon.<p>

It'd been a difficult week for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that the US Army seemed to have made it their personal mission to get him to reenlist…and wouldn't seem to take a hint an accept that 'no' was his final answer. Combined with the recent bout of a fairly foul mood that Brennan had been in since the Taffet trial had ended―despite their victory over the sociopath―he wasn't sleeping much, he was getting laid even less, and the combined pressures were starting to weigh on him in more ways than one

After he'd gotten rid of the latest emissary that the Army had sent to tempt him to re-up, Booth contemplated whether returning to the Hoover was worth it given how little time remained in the afternoon of the remaining work day's hours. Or, he wondered, was it possible that he might be able to blow off what was left at work for the day, call Rebecca, see if he could wheedle permission out of her to pick up Parker from school, and spend some unscheduled quality time with his son since being with Parker never failed to cheer him up. He glanced at his watch and realized that he had at least two hours before Parker's dismissal, so the least he could do after calling Rebecca was to sit back and enjoy a slice of pie in peace and quiet…even if the visitor that had interrupted his lunch had left his stomach somewhat…unsettled.

He'd just reached into his pocket to get his phone so that he could call Rebecca when he saw through the diner's window an unexpected, but very familiar face coming down the street and moving towards him. She waved when they made eye contact, and he moved to stand. However, Booth was taken slightly aback as she gestured to him to wait for her. It took Booth a minute to realize what was so strange about her current appearance. And, then, as she entered the diner and slid into her customary seat opposite him at their table, he realized what was so off about his girlfriend―for the first time in weeks, Brennan was actually _smiling._

"Hi," Brennan said with a large smile on her face.

"Heya, Bones," he said, still a bit taken aback by Brennan's seemingly positive mood. _What's got you so happy today, huh? _"What are you doing here?" His eyes then darted down to the table as he realized that the offer letter the Army's latest emissary had sent was still visible on the tabletop. He quickly slid a menu over it as Brennan made herself comfortable in the chair and gestured to their usual waitress.

"Well, you asked me this morning to compare notes on the murder, but since I had the appointment that I had to leave early for, I thought I might catch you here now, we could grab lunch, and maybe do it afterwards?"

"Right," said as he contemplated her offer. If Brennan was in a good mood, Booth certainly didn't want to waist the opportunity to spend some time with her since it'd been so long when she wasn't tired or moody or general annoyed with him in the last few weeks. So, even if they were working, as long as she was in a good mood, he decided that plan was just fine with him and thoughts of Parker danced out of him head. "Yeah."

A couple of minutes later, after Brennan had ordered what seemed like an unusually hearty meal for herself―and _breakfast_ of all things, Booth couldn't help but frowning at her strange behavior. Both Booth and their waitress had quirked an eyebrow when she ordered three eggs, over easy, hash browns, grits, and an English muffin in addition to her normal bowl of fresh strawberries and crème. He also noticed, quite interestingly, that Brennan asked for a cup of decaf coffee in addition to an extra large glass of orange juice. He couldn't help but give her another strange look once the waitress had scribbled Brennan's order and told Booth she'd be back shortly with a fresh warm up for his coffee.

"What?" Brennan asked, as she reached for her silverware and began to unwrap the napkin that was coiled around the fork, spoon, and knife with its customary band of paper. "What'd I do now?"

"Nothing, Bones," Booth replied.

"Booth," she clucked. "I know that look, and I know that tone. Why don't you just tell me whatever it is that you think I did now that you think's weird so we can save some time and be ready to eat when the food gets here, huh?"

Booth made a face and then said, "It's just...fried food? You really don't do fried food...and breakfast? At lunch? Breakfast for lunch?" He blinked and then shook his head. "That's something I would do, but you―"

Brennan reached out and took Booth's water glass, sipped it, and then said, "Breakfast is what...was appealing to me. I mean, you get breakfast morning, noon, and night, and I never castigate you, Booth―"

"Okay," he conceded. "Fair point, but...then―what about?"

"What about what?" Brennan said with narrowed eyes.

_Shit, _Booth thought as he recognized that look. _Well,_ _so much for her good mood. There it goes...straight out the diner's front door. _Realizing that he was in for the penny, in for the pound by that point, he decided to get the answer to satisfy his curiosity since he was pretty certain he was going to pay for it anyway. "It's just…hungry much?"

"I'm hungry," Brennan repeated. Booth arched an eye and then quickly added, "And, I couldn't eat this morning."

"Why not?" Booth asked. "I thought whenever you have an early meeting with your publisher that she bends over backwards to get whatever healthy crap you want to keep you happy."

"My meeting wasn't with my publisher," Brennan explained as the waitress returned and deposited Brennan's mug of decaf coffee and large OJ on the table before she topped off Booth's cup with a refill from the regular coffee carafe. "And, I couldn't eat this morning because I was getting blood drawn so I had to fast. That's why I've only had water since midnight last night."

"Oh," Booth said, not really certain what to make of what she'd said.

After quickly scrolling through his mental calendar, and not remembering any significant regularly scheduled follow up appointments with any of her doctors, he shrugged. Knowing that Brennan would tell him if there was anything to be concerned about, and still distracted by the Army's annoying persistence in trying to re-snag him for duty, he was content to let the matter lapse.

A couple of minutes went by in silence before Brennan was the one to break it. Looking over at him, she tilted her head before she began to speak.

"So," Brennan began as soon as she finished dumping several packets of sugar into her coffee and used her spoon to stir the milky concoction to her exact specifications. Before she lifted it to her lips and took a sip, she asked casually, "Who was that soldier?"

Booth frowned a bit as he realized that Brennan had apparently been watching him for longer than he'd originally thought before she made her presence known. _Damn, _he thought. _Damn, damn, damn_.

"Oh, just, uh―" he fumbled for an explanation―his stuttering not lost on Brennan as she arched an eyebrow at him. "Just an old Army buddy of mine."

Brennan's brow furrowed in suspicion as she considered his explanation. "You didn't look like buddies."

Although Booth was very clear in that he didn't feel like he was purposely keeping anything from Brennan about the Army's recent reemergence in his life, he didn't want to cause her undue worry given how off kilter she'd seem to have been in the past few weeks. Since, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing to tell, he didn't see the point on dwelling on the topic and decided the best way to disinterest Brennan was to deflect.

"What, all of a sudden, you can tell stuff like that?" he joked lightly.

Brennan considered his question before she nodded. "Well, you've taught me to be more observant of human interaction. I can also tell that you're reluctant to be honest about your real relationship with him―" She stopped, and then moved so quickly that before Booth realized what she had done, she brushed aside the menu he'd left on the far side of the table―out of the reach of their waitress―and swiped the letter that lay underneath. Booth winced as he realized there was no way to keep her from reading the letter now, which she did as he watched in expectant pain, a preemptive flinch hoovering on his face. After a minute, Brennan lowered the letter and arched her eyebrow once more as she commented, "Secretary of Defense? They want you to go back into the Army? As a Sergeant Major?" She paused, and then frowned as she added, "Wait―I thought you were a Master Sergeant?"

Sighing, Booth nodded. "They're just trying to tempt me with a promotion, but, you know, I'm not going."

Her eyes darted back to the paper, and she scanned it again as she then looked back up at him. "This lists your commendations." He shrugged noncommittally and then Brennan continued, "You were really good at being a soldier." She stopped and then titled her head as her voice took on a slightly different tone when she quietly asked, "Why do they want you back?"

Booth stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out what she was really thinking and feeling, because the last thing he wanted was for her to freak out over something that, really, in his mind wasn't that big a deal.

"Yeah, you know, they just think that my experience as an FBI agent and a sniper in the First Gulf War..." he let his voice trail off as he shrugged again and left the thought unfinished.

Brennan stared at him for a moment, and then a bit of comprehension dawned as she replied, "You could train soldiers in techniques for tracking and apprehending insurgents."

"Yeah, well, I'm real happy tracking and catching murderers right here," he said with a shake of his head as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips.

Brennan's brow furrowed as her eyes darted back to the letter. "They say you could save lives."

"Course they're gonna say that," he sighed as he set his coffee mug down. "It's the Army. They say that 'cause that's what _they_ want."

Pursing her lips for a minute, Brennan asked quietly, "You don't think you'd save lives?"

"Well, yeah," he responded instantly. When he saw Brennan's frown lines grow deeper, he then quickly amended his statement. "But, I mean, anyone would in that position."

"Not everybody is as good as you," she observed, the tint to her voice quite serious as she made the factual complement seem like a simple statement of fact.

Shaking his head, Booth responded, "I served my country, and I have a kid here." Brennan's eyes darted up to meet his, and she studied his face intently as he continued speaking with a strange glint in her eye that Booth didn't seem to notice. "I've got responsibilities, all right? I'm not going to Afghanistan, and you're not going to the Makapoopoo Islands."

"Maluku," she instantly corrected him.

"Right," he nodded, not missing a beat. "Exactly." He paused for a minute before he said with a firm nod of his head, almost as much as if he were convincing himself as to explain the point to her. "You know what? We have our jobs here, right?" She nodded her head imperceptibly, and he smiled. "Yeah."

_We have our jobs and are about to have a whole lot more here_, Brennan thought wryly. Taking a breath, she pursed her lips as she tried to figure out how best to tell him what news she'd been given just a couple of hours earlier. _Okay, here goes._

"Speaking of our jobs, I believe I have a new project that will be steadily occupying more and more of my time over the next few months that I feel I should tell you about," she said, stopping only when their waitress returned with the stack of dishes that carried Brennan's food.

Booth frowned as he considered her words. _Oh, God, I thought we talked about this, and she wasn't really thinking about that Machoochoo Islands Great Escape in the name of looking for the Missing Link_, Booth mentally groaned.

"Oh, geez, Bones," he muttered. "What now? I thought you said that you weren't going to take the job on the dig since it was a minimum of a year commitment."

"I'm not," Brennan said as she took her fork and stirred the melting butter that sat on top of her small bowl of grits. "The project I mentioned is less of an anthropological nature and more, of one might say…gestational."

"Great," Booth muttered under his breath, shaking his head. _She's gonna bolt again, and now I'm gonna have to follow her to some godawful backwater hell to wherever she's gone 'cause I can't just let her go. It's never simple with you is it, Bones? _Still, Booth tried to remain upbeat as he went fishing for more details. _Maybe it won't be that __bad...maybe it's just a new book tour or something that her publicist wants...even though she_ _did__ say that she wasn't meeting with her publisher this morning. Hmmm..._ "What…are you doing research for some new book or something? Because, we both know that you do get just a little nuts when you're doing something that you've never done before, and then when you're nuts, I get nuts, and then it's never a good thing for anyone."

Brennan silently chuckled as she realized that Booth hadn't understood what she'd said as he continued rambling.

"So, what is this? I mean, you aren't going to go anywhere, right? Because, we talked about this―"

"This is a…local project," Brennan interrupted him with a shake of her head. "But, it _is_ a rather… long-term commitment."

Booth scowled a bit, but said, "So, what…does this mean you're gonna be working less in the lab, because you know how much I need ya in the field."

"My time in the lab will be reduced, eventually, yes," Brennan said, mentally chuckling even harder as she realized that Booth was still oblivious to what she was trying to tell her partner. "But, I'm afraid that I'll also be likewise reducing my time in the field...eventually."

"Awww, Bones," Booth complained. "Why…and for how long?"

"I told you why," Brennan said as she scooped a forkful of grits into her mouth and swallowed. "And, as for how long―well, let's just say that I'm not certain, but I'm certain it will be a minimum of several years." She stopped and considered before she said, "Now that I think about it, it may be prudent for you to think about how you're going to rearrange your schedule because I know that I will need a tremendous amount of assistance and various types of support from you in this pursuit."

"Years?" Booth asked, his eyes widening as he processed her words. "And, wait…you're gonna need my help? Since when? I mean…seriously…okay, what gives? What's up here, Bones? Because you just told me that you're making a long-term commitment that's gonna take you away from the lab, away from our work, and it has nothing to do with your squinty anthropological goodness, so what's going on, huh? I mean, do you really have to do this?"

Brennan set her fork gently down on her plate and daintily wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

"I'm afraid I've already made the commitment," Brennan said. "It's sort of…as you might say, a 'done deal'."

"But, why?" Booth whined slightly. "I mean, Bones, you can't really do this type of thing without consulting me." He stopped and then sighed, "You aren't being straight with me because you really don't want to tell me that you agreed to the Macocku thingy in Indonesia after all, are you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that you weren't consulted," Brennan said softly. Deciding she'd toyed with him enough, she folded her hands on the top of the table and waited until he was looking straight at her. "Booth?" she asked.

"What?" he whined, the scowl still present on his face.

"I said I believe you were consulted, in a manner of speaking, since you were there and were an active participant when your ejaculation resulted in the conception of the fetus I'm now carrying," she said, almost losing her straight face as she stumbled over the term 'ejaculation'.

"Wait―what?" he blinked as he considered her words and a dazed look suddenly graced his face.

"And, no, I didn't accept the invitation to participate in the Spice Island project. As I said, it would be highly inadvisable for me to accept the position of director of the Maluku project, and not just because of our personal relationship, but because I have absolutely no desire to give birth in the traditional rites of the Bandanese tribe," she explained, a slightly self-pleased look coming onto her face.

"Give birth?" he mouthed, uncertain if he was hearing her correctly.

Her smiling growing wider, she nodded as she picked up one half of her English muffin and gestured to him. "Yes, Booth. Traditionally, giving birth is the culmination after one is finished gestating one's progeny. Now, can you please pass the strawberry jam? Like I said, I'm starving, and while it's likely that I may throw this up in a few hours due to the incorrectly named 'morning sickness'― since such retching can occur at any time of the day―I would like to enjoy a full stomach for as long I can since there is a slight chance that your offspring might not make me throw it up like it has every other day this week."

His eyes darted from where he sat staring at hers, down to her stomach, even though he couldn't see if since she was seated at the table, and then bounced back up to look at her.

"Bones?" he croaked.

"Yes, Booth?" she asked sweetly, still smiling. He sat in complete dumbfounded shock as he watched her holding the English muffin expectantly. She then tilted her head as she said, "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" he finally managed to utter.

"Could you please pass the strawberry jam? My muffin's getting cold," she grinned.

His eyes widened further as he finally wheezed, "Bones…seriously…what are you trying to tell me here?"

"As I said," Brennan said, as she set down her English money, finally reached over him and grabbed a plastic tub of the strawberry jam, ripped off the plastic foil cover, and then lifted her knife and jab it into the tub and put a healthy sampling of the thick jam onto her utensil. She then began to slather it onto her English muffin, before she set down her knife and lifted the English muffin to her lips.

However, right before she bit into the piece of bread, she smiled and said, "I just told you several times, Booth―but I can tell you again, if you like. I'm pregnant."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Booth's not good afternoon and difficult week had suddenly become the best of his entire life.

* * *

><p>Several months later, a radiant Dr. Temperance Brennan sat on the couch in her apartment, holding a small squirming bundle in her arms as she watched several of their guests enjoying the reception that was being hosted after the christening ceremony that had been held for their daughter. Special Agent Seeley Booth stood next to the edge of the couch, grinning one of the largest grins he'd ever felt crack his face, as he watched his partner and girlfriend cradle their child, who was making cooing sounds at her mother.<p>

"Ya know, Bones," he said. "It helps if you bounce her because she likes the rhythm."

"I find that Kathryn quite enjoys it when she isn't having her axis of motion overstimulated so that she can fully process the other sights and sounds around her," Brennan said as she looked at her partner and boyfriend. "Besides, I just fed her, and I have no desire to have her vomit the breast milk she just consumed all over her christening gown."

"Awww," Booth said as he squatted down and looked at the six-week old infant that Brennan was keeping safe in her arms. "She'd never do that to me, Bones. The little princess here knows that the only person she should spit up on is Mommy…and Sweets."

"I don't think she's been made aware of that point," a cutting English voice said as she emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of blue punch in her hand. Walking over, Sister Bernadette Magdalena (AKA Bernadette Gordon), came towards Brennan and extended one of the glasses to the mother. "Now, make yourself useful and be a dear and take the baby, Seeley, so that Temperance can wet her proverbial whistle." Booth knew better than to cross the old nun as he promptly plucked his daughter out of her mother's arms. As Brennan gratefully took the punch, Bernadette reassured her, "Never fear, dear―I know you're still nursing, so I took the liberty of grabbing you a glass of the non-alcoholic Shark Attack Punch." She stopped as she made a face and said, "I hate to admit it when Donnie's right, but it just doesn't have the same kick as the real stuff." Sighing, she shook her head as she then added, "However, it's not like you can go and get pissed, so some sacrifices do have to be made in the name of my lovely, lovely namesake who doesn't, as I was saying, Seeley, seem to be aware of the fact that she isn't supposed to puke up all over her godmother." She stopped and then a general smile cracked her face as she told Brennan, "Of course, she does it even more often to Donnie, so she gets points with me on that one."

"Of course, she does, sister dear," the melodious voice of Dr. Gordon Gordon Wyatt answered as he appeared from the kitchen with his own brightly-colored blue drink that both Booth and Brennan were both certain _wasn't_ one of the non-alcoholic versions. "Now, quite trying to incite my goddaughter against me."

"_Honorary_ goddaughter," Bernie was quick to point at him. "_Honorary _goddaughter, brother dear, since we both know that you've never given up Father's stubborn clinging to the lighter version of Catholicism, and you've insisted that you remain tied to that rather dirty Protestant denominational faith of yours."

"Yes, well, Bernie, love, I'm certain that when I die, if I go to see St. Peter, and he tells me that I made the wrong choice when I stuck with the Anglican faith of my childhood―just as you have so ardently remained committed to Mother's Roman Catholicism once our dear parents permanently separated," Wyatt said dryly. "Hopefully, I won't have to spend too long in Limbo since you've been praying for me for so many years, and I think nun's prayers might carry a bit more weight than most."

"Yes, well, be that as it may―and, who say's I've been praying for you, you sot―the godfather title you've been lording over young Kate isn't official, it's _honorary _since you're not Catholic," Bernie pointed out. "However, as I am of the true faith, I am Kate's actual godmother, which does put me, as usual, brother dear, more than one step ahead of you." She stopped and then added, "Of course, I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again, but you could've left Father's house in Oxford any time you wanted and come to live with Mum in Edinburgh and then we wouldn't be having this problem."

"And, as I've told you many times before, Oxford compared to Edinburgh is like comparing tea to coffee, McVities to Nabisco, and baseball to football…it's an exercise in futile stupidity, Bernie, and it's a waste of time to even contemplate such horrors."

Bernie rolled her eyes as Wyatt explained a slightly confused, but clearly amused Booth and Brennan, who were watching the pair with great interest. "Da and Mum split when we were minors," Wyatt began. "Mum was a Highland Scot of Clan Gordon, since she was Catholic, she raised Bernie after the separation, and Bernie took Mum's last name when she was old enough to make the choice since our mother had reverted to using her maiden name even though there was no divorce because of her religious beliefs. I stayed with Da at Oxford, and stereotypical don that he was, he was quite content with the arrangement as long as his time with his books wasn't interrupted. And, that's how Bernie also ended up with that huge ego even though she is a bit of a numpty at times. It's the Scottish blood, you see…since it always tells."

"And, Donnie's priggish self-righteousness is stereotypical of the bloody Sassenach, so we'll just all have to forgive him, I suppose," Bernie sighed. "But, since I'm used to it by now, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I have to indulge him like this."

"And," Wyatt sighed as he shook his head and let his gaze turn from Booth to Brennan and back again. "I'm afraid that no matter how much time you spend around her, Bernie never quite loses her edge. I think it's because she spends so much time sharpening her knives at the nunnery instead of keeping up the good ole tradition of overkill that led her to take the vows in the first place when she decided she wanted to pray for our dear father's and my damned souls." He stopped and then added in a conspiratorial tone to the new parents, "Of course, I can't be blamed for not warning you that this would happen you if you made her Kate's godmother. Combined with the fact that the baby's middle name is Bernadette, you were going to stoke her incredibly large ego to an even greater epic size than it already is by it's very nature, and now you know why."

"Donnie!" Bernie began with a strong bolt of recrimination clear in her voice. "I can't believe you―"

Booth chuckled as he leaned in to Brennan and whispered, "You know, we can probably still get Kate's middle name changed."

Brennan smiled as she looked down at their daughter, who's eyes were bouncing around from left to right and back again as she took in the entire scene before her. The baby, who Brennan knew had to be named Kathryn as soon as she saw her infant's fine hair that made it seem as if she was as bald as a Georgia Peach, had been named after Booth's grandmother…and her godmother, Sister Bernadette. However, in deference to the child of her dream that Brennan had lost, Booth had suggested they call her Kate instead of Katy, and that made Brennan feel better about the entire situation.

Smiling as she rocked the baby slightly in her arms, Brennan slowly shook her head. "No, it's all right…I think with parents like us, Kate is going to need a backbone if she's going to be her own person. And, Bernie's a good role model for that."

"Are you saying we bicker too much, Bones?" Booth grinned as he leaned in an let his face rest just an inch or two from hers, their noses barely touching.

"Yes," Brennan smiled, chuckling slightly as she answered. "Of course we bicker."

"But―"

"Of course, we bicker," Brennan repeated as she leaned into close the remaining distance between them. And, just before she kissed him, she whispered, "But, because I trust us―you loving me, me loving you, us loving Kate…I know that everything, and I mean _everything, _Booth…I know it sounds silly, but I know we'll always be okay because things will work out like they're supposed to, right?"

A toothy grin of his own appeared on Booth's face as he nodded and met her ready lips with hers with a silent thanks of what they'd been given and for what happiness was still theirs, but yet to come.

* * *

><p><span>~The End~<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note -<span> And, that's, as they say...a wrap! So, there you have it folks. That's it. I hope everyone likes how this heavily angsty piece finished up.

This story was born for a couple of different reasons. I think I've shared before that I wrote the prologue several months before I actually posted it as I tried to wrap my head around these thoughts. First, I had the question running around in my head…what would have to happen for Brennan to become religious (or, at least, question her atheism) given her atheistic belief system? The second would be how would she handle that occurrence if she couldn't turn to Booth for guidance? So, the plot for this story was hatched out of those meanderings. Sister Bernadette was born, and Sweets was broomed for Gordon Gordon. The good Dr. Wyatt's baby sister has become one of my favorite OC's. Someone asked, why did Bernie call Gordon Gordon Donnie, and I never got a chance to answer it in the story as it never really fit anywhere. The answer is…we all have siblings that shorten names…and Gordon Gordon never seemed like a Gordy to me…so, that left Don…which didn't sound sibling-like enough…thus, Donnie was born. To my longtime readers who've inquired, never fear―we'll definitely be seeing her again at some point in one of my other stories. I just have to figure out where to plug her in and how.

Since this is the end of my story, and this is the spot where I like to ramble on a bit more than normal (hard to believe, I know), but for those who do actually read the author's notes (and, gah! Some of you may this hard to believe, but a lot of people actually skip them. Go figure.) I like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who's supported it. Be it Dharmasera, Inc. in-house Boothifying services (yes, she was my Boothifying-Boothchecker, but not all of Booth's ramblings/words in the story were necessarily from the monkey…for either good or bad), my regular readers (some of you guys who I know leave a review every damn chapter that it makes my day when I see it, even if it's just a one-line to let me know that you're still will me), new readers who stuck with me through the end of this angsty story, and even those lurkers who haven't come out and said a word. I know with the reader alerts you've got to be reading, so even if you didn't say anything―although, it's not too late you know? You can still hit that bright shiny blue button below and let me know what you thought of the story as a whole since reviews of stories at their completion are just as important as those given at other times―I appreciate you taking the time to read and discuss. Even if I'm horrible at it, all the reviews, PM, and twitter inquiries via my PR monkey agent are near and dear to my heart, so thank you so very much. I really do sincerely mean that, too.

Now, that having been said, as far as future projects in the short term…plans include wrapping up "Revisting a Big Mistake" (as there are only two chapters and an epilogue left in that story) and probably focusing on "More From Brennan's Journal." I do have a few ideas rattling around the old noggin' for what may be my next solo piece. But, until the muse gnaws down on which one she seems most interested in, I'm happy to say that work will continue on the opening chapters of the dharmasera epic "Proprietary Interests" which will be the long-awaited sequel to "Costly Signals" and "Cogitative Dissonance." ::stares at somemonkey:: ::coughs:: ::stares some more:: ::gives M.C.:: :stares some more:: ::grin::. Anyway, just so everyone knows what's in the pipeline…there you have it.

Until next time, see everyone in the funny papers. Take care.~


End file.
